#to he fair he did give himself the migraine to prove a point

[vitamin-zeeth]

Love it when Wilson is a petty bitch to house. Oh you have a MIGRAINE?? YOU HAVE A MIGRAINE?? SORRY I CANT HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF THESE METAL SPOONS BEING DROPPED IN A SINK 💥🥄🥄💥💥💥🥄💥🥄💥🥄🥄🥄💥🥄💥

[echoghost1]

InvisoBang 2023 - Dawn Of Influence - Chapter 2

Title: Dawn Of Influence Chapter 2 Title: Headaches & How’ve You Been’s Summary: Danny is in his senior year of high school. His life, even with his still secret half-ghost nonsense, has settled down to a new, but manageable normal. That is until one day he starts to notice something is off. He doesn’t feel right, so he tries to find out what’s going on. His ghost form is changing but he has no idea what it’s changing into or why. Characters: Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, Jazz Fenton, Clockwork, Pandora, Frostbite Total Word Count: 17,010 Trigger Warnings & relevant tags: Mystery, Horror, Body Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Ghost King Danny Fenton

You can find my fic on ao3 and read chapter 2 down below the cut!

Ch 1 | [you're here] | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10 | Ch 11 | Ch 12

Once a week Jazz would call home from college. She said it was so she could let them know how things were going for her. That she didn’t want them to worry.

Danny was pretty sure it was more for her. To make sure he was okay.

He had a feeling if she could, she would have driven home every week. Thankfully she saw how insane it was to make such a long drive weekly. 

Normally he enjoyed catching up with her. He liked hearing about how much she was enjoying herself. 

She was thriving on the east coast.

She was doing even better when he was able to prove he wasn't going to starve to death or let their parents blow up the house while she was away. 

The first couple of weeks without her was a bit of an adjustment but he managed. He might not be good at much, but he was very adaptable. 

Plus he had another new weekly tradition of having family dinners at Tucker’s house. 

The problem with having a weekly call with Jazz was he never wanted to give her bad news.

He always made sure to have something positive, even if it was just something he was looking forward to later in the week.

This week he had nothing. 

Midterms were coming up and even if he wasn't in danger of failing it didn't stop the test anxiety he always got. Test anxiety that had only gotten worse after that whole bad-end future business. 

To top it all off, he had a headache.

He really wanted to have something good to say, but the more he tried to think of something, the more it made his head hurt.

By the time she called he had almost convinced himself to go out and miss the call. Almost.

He knew avoiding it would just make it worse. Somehow.

He couldn’t think of how. His head hurt too much.

Danny picked up the phone on the second ring. 

“Hi Danny!”

“Hey Jazz.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, got a headache, but it’s fine. How are you?”

“You sure?”

“It’s fine. I’m sure there’s something you were dying to tell me about.”

“I can tell you about that later. Did you take anything?”

“Like what?”

“Headache medicine? For your headache,” she said in a way that pointed out just how obvious that was.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I thought it would go away.”

“How long has it been?”

“Um,” Danny hesitated.

“Um? Why um?”

“I don’t think you’re going to like this answer.”

“I already don’t like it.”

“That’s fair.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

He was hoping she wouldn’t notice that.

“Danny.”

“I don’t know, like a day?”

“A Day!?”

“Is that bad?”

“Danny!”

“What?”

“That’s not a headache, that’s a migraine!”

“I thought migraines were the ones that made you not like light.”

Jazz sighed heavily.

He really didn’t mean to upset her.

“Danny, go take something for your headache. There should be a bottle in the bathroom.”

“Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I was supposed to have something good to tell you but I just made you mad instead.”

“I’m not mad,” she said angrily.

“You sound mad.”

“I’m not mad at you.” she clarified.

“Are you mad at my headache?” Danny asked as he stepped into the bathroom.

“Yes, but also Mom and Dad.”

“Why are you mad at them?”

“The usual,” she said simply.

He just hummed in agreement. They were both well aware of the long list of things that made up The Usual. 

She probably didn’t mean the whole list right now, but he had a feeling that having a list was definitely a bad sign. Or at least not a very good one.

They may not have the best parents, but they weren’t bad on purpose. B+ parenting, maybe C average for when they got a little too passionate about their plans for ghost research.

One of the many advantages of having dinner at Tucker’s. He didn’t have to worry about the topic of ghost dissection at the table. Or ever. 

“Did you find it?” Jazz asked, bringing him back to the present.

“Just did,” he shook the bottle so the pills rattled for emphasis. “How many do I take?”

“Start with one, and see how that goes.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. That’s what big sisters are for.”

Once he was done in the bathroom he went back to his room. He hoped the medicine both worked and kicked in fast.

Until then he’d chat with his sister.

He flopped on his bed and ignored how the movement reverberated in his skull. “So what are you getting up to in your exciting college life this week?”

Jazz was now more than happy to fill him in on her college life. She told him about a presentation she did, an event she went to, a couple of books she read, a guest speaker who came, and the things she did when she wasn’t in school.

He wasn’t sure how she found time to do all of the things she did in a single week.

Maybe some of these things were from last week.

Whatever it was, he was glad she was still having fun.

Still able to live her life.

That she was able to do what she wanted despite everything they’d been through.

“Danny.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not true.”

“What?”

“Earlier. You said you were supposed to have good news for me. That’s not true. You can have bad days when I’m not around. It’d be a little weird if you didn’t.”

“I don’t want you to worry.”

“The thing about that is, it’s never going to work. You can’t stop other people from worrying about you. It shows they care about you.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“Of course it is. I said so.”

“Hope you don’t run into the doorway with that big head of yours.” Danny teased.

“Don’t worry, the doorways here are huge. Otherwise, the professors and half the students wouldn’t be able to get around.” she joked right back.

“Only half?”

“You’re right, it’s all of us.”

The siblings shared a few more laughs until there was a knock on Danny’s door.

“Oh, hold on,” he got up and found his mom on the other side of the door.

“Who are you talking to, Sweetie?”

“Jazz.”

“Oh, it’s Thursday already?”

“You want to talk to her?”

“Of course! Gimme the phone.”

“Alright hold on,” he said to his mom before he made sure Jazz knew what was going on.

“Hope you feel better Danny.” Jazz said in lieu of goodbye.

“Me too.”

He was glad she didn’t ask if his headache was gone.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

Noona, Do You Not Like Younger Men? (Choi San+Jung Wooyoung)

Pairing: Choi San× Milf! Reader (Female)× Jung Wooyoung

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Idol AU.

Summary: Maybe going over to pester their favorite manager during her vacation wasn't such a bad idea, especially if it ends up with them getting what they always fantasized about every night.

Word Count: 4.2+K

Warnings: Age differences (still within legal boundaries), breast play including titty fucking (yeah I'm aware some of us don't have huge tits, I'm part of that squad but we can dream ok?) fingering, m+f+m threesome, ass grinding, spanking, degradation.

Taglist: @little-precious-baby @galaxteez @multidreams-and-desires @yunhofingers @yunhoiseyecandy @deja-vux @daniblogs164 @brie02 @couchpotatoaniki @a-soft-hornytiny

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Y/N's eyes squinted at the two younger males who casually showed up at her home, uninvited and already letting themselves in as if they owned the place.

"Hi Noona. Did you miss us?" The older one of the two squished her cheeks together, earning him a slap on his wrist, which he did not appreciate.

"Aww Noona, now look what you've done. You made him sad." The other male pointed to the other's pout.

"Choi San and Jung Wooyoung, just what the hell do you think you're doing here?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Isn't it obvious? We came to keep you company!" San cheerfully exclaimed.

"We know you missed us so we decided to come over and spend time with our favorite manager." Wooyoung added as he went over to try and cling an arm around the older woman, but she brushed his hand away.

"Ok, in case you guys didn't know, I'm on vacation, a well needed vacation from my manager duties. Specifically from you two! You little brats who constantly give me migraines and high blood pressure. I got this vacation to get away from you both!"

The boys were taken aback by her outburst, looking back and forth between each other and then returned their faces back to her. Their somber and disappointed expressionism soon bursted out in laughter, confusing the woman in front of them.

"Oh Noona! You're so funny." San giggled.

"We know you love and adore us so much. And you're happy that we came to keep you company!" Against her will, and more since she was outnumbered, she let Wooyoung and San each take one of her arm and drag her over to the living room where they sat her down and started arranging the space so they could have a small movie day. Y/N let out slow and deep breaths as she tried not to lose her patience and just let the boys run around her house as they started putting the snacks they brought with them into bowls. She could hear them muttering angrily to each other from the kitchen, no doubt telling each other to be careful less they accidentally broke one of her plates. In less than 10 minutes, they had about  7 or 8 different bowls full of different snacks, ranging from crispy chips, to sour gummy worms and even different types of sweet chocolates.

"We even got mochi ice cream! Would you like some?" Wooyoung enthusiastically shoved the case that contained assorted flavors of the icy dessert.

Knowing she might as well enjoy the gluttonous snacks while she could, Y/N skimmed her hand over them and picked out one of the mint chocolate mochis and stuffed it in her mouth. Unbeknownst to her, the man on her right was staring at her with a wide smile as she ate the ice cream. When she noticed, she gave him a puzzled look and scooted further away from him.

"You chose the mint chocolate flavor." He giddily stated.

"Yes....any problem with that?" She questioned.

San emitted happy squeals at that.

"I love mint chocolate flavor too! Don't you see Noona? This further proves that were soulmates and destined to be together!"

Without even asking or warning, he snuggled himself against her, an arm around her waist as he used her chest as a makeshift pillow. Coming back from the kitchen, Wooyoung glared at San when he saw how close he was with their manager.

"Hey! No fair. Don't hog Noona up for yourself. We promised to share!" He quickly jumped on the other side and tried to tangle himself around her, proving to be difficult when San was pushing him away. Y/N ended up being pulled and tugged from both sides as the boys fought amongst themselves for her. Fed up with their antics, she reached her hands over and smacked both of their thighs sharply, making them retreat away from her less they suffered more physical pain from her.

"I want both of you to stay at least an arm's length away from me if you're planning to stay here and watch a movie. And absolutely under no circumstances do I want either of your mouths opening to sputter nonsense and annoy me further...Got it?!"

Both of the idols scooted to either ends of the couch, each grabbing a nearby cushion to keep them company and to protect them in case they furthered irritated their off duty manager. Y/N took a deep breath as she rubbed the side of her temples, letting the boys pick out which movie they wanted to watch. She probably wouldn't even enjoy the movie with the two rascals nearby, she thought to herself. Wooyoung and San settled for a cute looking movie, both of them hoping that the fluffy contents would soften up Y/N so they could cuddle up next to her once more. The woman however cringed when she saw the title.

"Ugh. Wake me up when whatever chick flick you chose is over." She settled back onto the couch, her eyes already closing.

"Aww come on Noona, give it a try. You might even like it." San suggested.

"Romantic movies have never been my type." She mumbled out, her hand reaching out to take some of the popcorn on the table to stuff in her mouth.

The movie played out exactly as she expected it to. Nothing short of all the typical cliches and stereotypes portrayed on every single romantic comedy made in existence. The boys would often look back at her every few minutes, their faces getting more and more discouraged when their manager didn't seem to be enjoying their company. It seemed that their plan to get close to her backfired as she was currently resting her chin on her palms, dozing off slowly while not paying one bit of attention on the screen in front of her.

"Told you to pick a scary movie." San complained to his friend.

"Your chicken ass can't even handle them." Wooyoung side eyed him.

"Yeah, but jump scares serve as an excuse to hug the person next to you." He tilted his head over to Y/N.

"Nice move, saying your plan out loud for her to hear. You dumbass."

Taking the pillow he had, San chucked it at Wooyoung, knocking the snacks he was currently eating onto the floor. Grabbing the pillow, he made move to throw it once more, but Y/N held a hand up.

"Throw that cushion and I will choke you Jung Wooyoung."

The warned boy immediately sat the cushion back down, setting his hands down on his lap.

"Please do...."

Y/N's half lidded eyes sprung wide open when she heard his whisper. Slowly she turned her head at him, of course Wooyoung noticed out of the corner of his eye and swallowed harshly. He didn't think she was paying attention enough to hear him, but she was. Wooyoung soon felt flushed as she eyed him with an indiscernible stare, trying desperately to focus his attention on the movie in front of him but the heavy weight of her stare kept burning through him. Seeing as he wasn't going to say or do anything else, Y/N decided it would be fun to tease him like he'd often tease her. Sliding on top of him, to the surprise of not only Wooyoung but his friend on the other side, Y/N hummed softly as her fingers ran up his chest.

"Please do what Wooyoung? Choke you? Is that what you want? Want my hand wrapped around that pretty of neck of yours?"

The flustered male shuddered when her fingers encapsulated over the front of his neck, lightly applying pressure against his Adam's apple with her palm.

"Oh someone likes this a little too much." She chuckled as she subtly rolled her hips on his tent that formed as soon as she touched him.

"Please Noona.." Wooyoung squirmed underneath her body, hips trying to grind up against hers.

"I barely did anything and you're already begging for me. You're an even bigger whore than I thought you were." She let out an annoyed 'tsk' as she slowly began to get off his lap.

When Wooyoung felt her detaching herself, his hands came out to clasp her waist, keeping her firmly planted on his lap.

"Yes I am, I'm such a whore for you Noona. But please don't leave me here like this." He whined at her, looking completely pitiful as his hands desperately tried to keep her from moving. Y/N reached a hand out to toss some of the hair away from his forehead, her mind already working on ways to play around with the young male. Noticing that his eyes kept falling towards her chest, she suddenly got an idea.

"You like my breasts Wooyoungie?"

Her question caught him off guard, eyes widening, looking like a deer caught in headlights, especially after she called him by his nickname. He was beyond flustered, unable to look up at his manager anymore.

"I asked you a question Wooyoungie and I expect an answer or else I'll leave you hanging there and make you watch as I play with Sannie instead."

The forgotten male beside them became excited at hearing her words, his hand rubbing against his inner thigh, slowly creeping up to the bulge in his pants. Tilting his chin up to look at her, Y/N repeated her question once more, expecting him to reply as it was his last chance.

"Y-yes. I like your breasts very much Noona." He finally admitted.

Satisfied at getting an answer, Y/N pulled away from Wooyoung so she could start removing her shirt, both boys watching her without batting an eyelash. When her bra dropped on the floor, they both stared in awe at her voluptuous chest, mouths agape and nearly drooling at the sight.

"Fuck, they're just-wow." San chimed in, tongue wetting the center of his lips.

"You like them too Sannie? I always thought you were more of an ass guy." She commented with a knowing smile, recalling all the times he'd come up behind her and greet her with a pat on her bum.

"Oh hell yeah I am, but I'd never say no to an opportunity to suck on a pretty pair of tits." He acknowledged with no hesitation.

"Is that so? Well then."

Prying Wooyoung's hands off her, Y/N sat herself back in between the boys, hands cupping both of her breasts to gently massage them in her palms, fingers tweaking at her nipples which were slowly getting fully erect. The two men at her sides watched with hungry eyes, only imagining how soft and tender her breasts must feel, both wanting to replace her hands with their own. Unbeknownst to them, they were about to get a better offer.

"There's one for each of you my loves, so go ahead. Put your pretty mouths on them and suck on them. And maybe if you do good enough, I'll play more with you guys."

Wooyoung and San simultaneously looked at one another, both wondering if they heard her correctly or it was another perverted thought their mind played on them. Realizing it was not, San was the first one to be bold as he cupped the breast nearest to him and brought it up to his lips, where he proceeded to coat the areola with spit before he latching onto it.

"So you're more of a dirty boy, aren't you Sannie?" She mused at him, fingers brushing some of the bangs on his face.

San only responded by lifting his eyes momentarily to shoot a wink her way before indulging back in his task of suckling on her tit. Y/N turned her attention to Wooyoung, who was still nervously sitting there in a pliant manner. She beckoned for him to come closer.

"Wooyoungie, my other breast feels lonely."

Getting the hint, Wooyoung lowered himself and practically squished his face into her fleshy mound. As expected, he was very vocal, spewing out lewd sounds as he harshly sucked on her nipple, bringing in as much of her as he could possibly put in his mouth. Y/N laid her head back on the top of the couch, mouth drawing out heavy breaths and pants as she relaxed and enjoyed the sensation of the the younger male's mouths on her breasts, their tongues and teeth eagerly swirling and nibbling on her sensitive flesh. She noticed how both of them had completely different patterns. Whereas San's suckling was less intense, it was definitely more sloppy, spit dribbling down his chin and down her chest from all the insane movements his tongue worked on her nipple, each of them clearly focused on bringing her as much pleasure as possible. Wooyoung was definitely more intense and full of eagerness, but each swirl of his tongue or nibbling on her skin was less meditated and more like he was simply enjoying to taste the older woman, playing around with her breast as if it was a toy for him to fondle and tease as he pleased. Not that she minded, she loved being used as a toy by them both.

She became so lost in the feeling of their mouths on her body that she didn't notice the hands that had traveled in between her thighs until she felt them prying them open in an effort to slide her shorts and underwear down. She became somewhat self conscious when they managed to tear the rest of her clothing off, her legs closing tightly. Tapping a finger on her knee, San pulled off her nipple to say:

"Spread your legs for us and let us see that soaking cunt of yours."

Wooyoung was just as shocked as she was at his informal and vulgar words, but it certainly served to arouse her even more. Getting talked down to by someone younger than her..... it was definitely something. Giving him what he, and probably also his friend, wanted, she opened up her legs. Putting aside her gorgeous breasts for the meantime, the 2 pairs of eyes peered down at the sight below them, their Noona's folds glistening just for them and because of them, her tiny bud aching to be touched by their fingers. Signaling to his friend, San dipped his fingers down, swirling them around her clit before pressing down on it.

"Oh she's needy Wooyoung, I can feel it throbbing against my finger." San smirked as he lightly rubbed against her clit.

"Is our pretty Noona in need of our fingers? Does she want to get stuffed with them?" Wooyoung muttered against her ear, lips quick to muffle the moan that responded to his question. It was a sweet and tender kiss that was interrupted by San who tilted her chin towards him so that he could kiss her as well.

"Don't worry Noona. We'll make sure you're full and satisfied."

Y/N gasped as she felt both of their fingers slowly insert themselves into her slick and wet walls. Nudging to each other, their fingers started moving to and fro, eyes watching closely each facial expression that took over her features, reveling in the blissful sighs that were spilling out of her lips. Y/N couldn't keep herself from clenching tightly around their fingers, mesmerized by the sight of both of them fingering her tight little hole.

"Are you enjoying this Noona? Like having your tight pussy fucked by Sannie's finger and mine?" Wooyoung giggled, pushing his finger deeper into her, knuckles pressing against her mound which had her shuddering.

"Yes she is Wooyoungie, look at how much tighter she's becoming."

With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he looked at Wooyoung.

"Maybe we should stretch her out even further. Don't you think?" He suggested, to which Wooyoung agreed to with a grin.

With a sharp inhale, Y/N released a whimper when 2 extra fingers intruded into her intimate region, stretching her further. The pace with which they were thrusting their fingers into her increased, each of the boys jamming their fingers at different timings, making sure that their tips touched the hood of her sex, grazing that sweet spot of hers. Y/N was a whining and moaning mess. The boys were not giving her any chance to relax, when one set of fingers was pulling out of her, the other set was pushing back in, continuing its abuse on her g-spot. She felt her thighs starting to trembling, her lower stomach building up her climax by the second. Even with the 4 fingers parting her wide open, she was starting to squeeze around them, wrapping them up in a blanket of heat that would soon coat them with her release.

"Are you gonna cum Noona? Cum on Sannie's and my fingers?" Wooyoung cooed as he drove his fingers faster into her to help her reach her orgasm faster.

Y/N could only manage to nod slightly, eyes shutting tight, unable to register anything else save for the slippery and squealching sounds that came from between her thighs. She didn't feel San press his lips against her ear until his low voice spoke in that sexy satoori accent of his.

"Cum for us Noona. Cum all over us."

With his encouragement, she tipped over the edge, crying out loudly as her release started streaming down her body and onto their hands, dripping even down to their wrists. The boys were kind enough to continue filling her hole with their fingers, helping her ride out her orgasm until she came down from her high.

"Shit. Look at all the mess you made on us. Such a dirty dirty Noona." San taunted as he forced her to look down at their cum covered hands, which they both brought up to lick clean right in front of her.

"And you taste so delicious." Wooyoung added with star struck eyes.

Cupping both of their chins, she placed a peck on each of their lips.

"Thank you for that my darling boys, you made Noona feel amazing. It's only right Noona makes you both feel just as good."

Not forgetting about the throbbing needs in their pants, she ordered them to strip in front of her, an order they were eager to comply with. Through clumsy fumbling, a pile of clothes was added to the previously discarded garments from the woman in front of them. Y/N couldn't hide the satisfaction on her face as she gazed at their erect cocks, standing proudly, waiting to be touched and played with.

"Well I suspected my boys were big, but even the reality is nothing like what I imagined." The men flushed at her words, flattered by the knowledge that she had indeed thought about them in that way before.

"Wooyoungie, lie down right here." She patted the space next to her.

Following her instructions, Wooyoung placed himself where she wanted him, displaying himself out to her. Hovering above him, Y/N kissed along his defined abs, getting dangerously close to the tip of his cock, exciting him while the member behind them envied their close proximity. Y/N pulled her face away right before her lips could touch his head.

"As much as I'd love to suck your pretty little cock, I think there's something you'll enjoy even more babyboy."

The pet name followed by the image of her breasts enveloping his shaft between them was enough to drive Wooyoung wild as he realized what she had in mind.

"Oh fuck Noona- yes please." He was anxious about having her warm tits hug around his length and fuck him until they were coated in his cum.

"I knew you'd love the idea."

Glancing back at the neglected male, Y/N motioned for him to come over.

"And I have an idea for you too my precious Sannie. Since you seem to like my ass so much, how about you stuff that cock of yours in my cheeks and fuck yourself on them?"

San's eyes bulged out, his dick twitching when he heard those words. It was such an erotic, kinky and naughty idea and he was all up for it.

"Shit- fuck yeah." He wasted no time as he straddled Y/N's behind, slapping his cock on each of her asscheeks before prying them apart and laying his shaft in between them.

"Fuck yourself as you want Sannie and try to keep up with Wooyoung and I." She challenged him, which he was more than willing to take up.

Spitting down on Wooyoung's cock and her tits to properly lubricate them, she sandwiched his shaft in her pillowy and soft flesh before rubbing her tits up and down on him. Wooyoung was releasing gasp after gasp the more he felt and saw his member disappear and reappear from his Noona's glorious valley. Meanwhile behind her, San busied himself as he started rutting his cock against the firm but tender skin of her ass, groaning and grunting as he took advantage of the green light she gave him to go as hard as he wanted. Each time he slammed his hips up into her, he basked in the visual of her plump ass cheeks rippling with each of his thrusts.

"Oh God." San exclaimed, one hand coming down to strike one of Y/N's cheeks, causing her to jolt forward in surprise, her stiff nipples rubbing against Wooyoung's shaft.

"Shit! San- be gentle with Noona." He whined, his eyes still focused on the silky sensation of Y/N's boobs hugging him.

"It's ok Wooyoung. I know Noona liked it. She likes it rough. Watch."

Raising his hand once more, it came back down to spank the same spot he had previously hit, a light pink hue starting to appear on her skin. Y/N tried and failed to contain a whimpered moan from her lips, spit dripping out and falling on Wooyoung's tip.

"Shit Noona, are you really into freaky shit?" He asked in astonishment.

"She's literally letting two younger guys fuck her tits and ass, how much more reassurance do you need?" San pointed out as he squeezed at her ass, riding her backside with more intensity.

"She's just a dirty kinky whore, allowing us to use her body this way. And then she's gonna let us cover her in our cum cause she's that slutty."

Y/N groaned at his words, her tongue poking out to lick at Wooyoung's slit each time it peeked out through the valley of her enormous tits.

"Fuck to paint Noona's tits with my cum-" Wooyoung hissed, teeth tugging at his bottom lip.

"You wanna do that for me? Cum on my big boobs baby boy?" She chuckled when she felt Wooyoung's cock twitch against her skin.

He couldn't answer her as another one of San's slaps along with his frenzied grinding thrusted her forward, making her and the boy below her exclaim in surprise.

"You're not cumming without me. You better hold it." San warned through gritted teeth, nails digging into her flesh as he violently rammed his cock between her fleshy and plump folds.

Y/N looked down at poor Wooyoung's face, looking so distraught as he fought hard not to cum right then and there. Leaning down, Y/N gave his tip a few kitten licks before resuming to squish her breasts on his length.

"It's ok Wooyoungie. San forgets his not in charge here. I am. So cum for me baby boy. Cum all over your Noona's tits." She softly said to him.

With shuddering whines and whimpers, Wooyoung threw his head back, eyebrows furrowed as thick streams of cum erupt from his tip, his orgasmic bliss so overwhelming, lasting longer due to Y/N continuing to rapidly push up and down his cock, milking him out of the last drop of cum he had left in his body.

"That's it. That's my good little boy, keep cumming just like that." She praised him, watching with excitement as his seed plastered itself on the top of her cleavage, some of it even splashing onto her cheeks and chin.

"That's so fucking hot- Oh my God-"

After watching the scene play out in front of him, San felt a familiar tightness in his balls, his tip starting to swell up. Before he could even register it, he was already pumping his own cum all over Y/N's ass and lower back, sputtering out incoherent words as he did so. He ended up collapsing on the couch, energy completed drained after all that, same as his friend who was still laying still on the other side. Meanwhile Y/N grabbed the box of tissues that was on the coffee table and pulled a few of them out so she could clean herself and the boys up. Starting with Wooyoung, she wiped in between his thighs, picking up the remainder of whatever was left of his cum before turning to San and cleaning up his body as well. Once both of the boys were cleaned up, she grabbed a couple more tissues to use on herself. She was distracted when she heard both of them start giggling out of nowhere.

"What's so funny?" She asked them, looking at San and then at Wooyoung, both of them donning a suspicious smile.

"So Noona does like younger men..."

[rattlerinthewheel]

Fight Like Siblings: Scud/Reader

You fight like siblings. That’s where anything "familial" ends.

For the Season of Kink bingo square: wall sex, at @phoenixblack89’s request along with a gender neutral reader (well, female, but I couldn’t manage so we settled on gender neutral). Sorry for the delay! Got a migraine towards the end of the night and wanted to do one last proofread this morning.

Title is a wink to Eric and his "sister" Nora from True Blood, when he says they fight like siblings but fuck like champions. No incest here, though.

- - -

The van’s cluttered. Weapons, junk, junk food out in the open or stuffed away under ratty blankets. There’s hardly a place for you to be without something clanging off your hip or crinkling under your foot. It’s unavoidable, because not only is the van trashed, but it’s dark. A bank of TVs is your only light source, some of them switched off, the rest displaying grainy feed that just barely gives you the shapes of the other familiar against the opposite wall.

You slump against the back wall, eyeing the doors the familiar slammed shut after you leapt in. You don’t hear anything, and the feed’s utterly boring, so you relax by a fraction—and stiffen when you feel something with give to it sag under the hand you put down. Soft, sticky, and it flakes off onto your palm when you snatch your hand back.

It’s a goddamn donut.

"Could’ve left you out there, you know," Frohmeyer—Damaskinos is too formal to call him Josh, or Scud, which you don’t blame; it’s fucking stupid—says from where he’s a lump on the floor, seeing your look. Content with the rest of the trash.

"Couldn’t kill you to clean up," you scoff, tossing the donut at him. It’s childish, but so’s the cartoon he’s got playing on one of the TVs. "Damaskinos would be disgusted."

"Damaskinos ain’t here," Frohmeyer scoffs.

He fishes out a cigarette, and the orange spark of the lighter that materializes like some magic trick hurts your eyes. Nicotine burns your sinuses, but at least it isn’t the earthy weed you get a whiff of, seeped into the blankets.

"’Sides, keep your voice down," he snaps, clapping the Zippo shut and tossing it into the middle of the van. You guess that’s what he does with most of the junk scattered around when he’s done with it. "Damaskinos wouldn’t be too thrilled if you gave us away."

"Oh, so now you’re worried about it?"

You fall into bickering. Fighting like siblings, some of the familiars do. Part of it’s the need to get out of familiar status alive—well, turned. Prove to the one you’ve given yourself over to that you’re worth it, carrying their name, representing them.

Part of it’s that the only thing that bonds you is that you are familiars, otherwise you’d likely never interact with one another a day in your lives.

With Frohmeyer, you’d be sure of that.

"You should smile more," pulls you out of scowling at the donut where it landed against his leg.

You’d finally fallen quiet, too—but it’s just like Frohmeyer to ruin things. "You should get drained."

"Aw," he hums, and another cloud of smoke burns your nose, "the baby jealous Big Brother got the job instead? Had to hold Nyssa’s hand after I did all the work?"

You’re livid, and you make that clear by your lack of response. You’ve only been sent in after Frohmeyer’s done the hard task of getting in the daywalker’s good graces. You know why, that logically, Frohmeyer was the better choice to lure those two females at that campsite—and by default, the daywalker, once they started tearing into him.

But it still stings. And by the smokey grin that leers at you, Frohmeyer knows it still does, too.

"Fuck off," is what you settle on, pushing to your feet and not caring when you kick his ankle by accident.

"Fuck off yourself," gets scoffed up from below, with another thick cloud of smoke. You expect that.

But you don’t expect the foot he lashes out, that hooks your instep and sends you stumbling. "Asshole!" would probably draw a reaper or two, if there were any shown skulking around in the feeds; but there aren’t, so you let it bellow, and because he just grins at that you can’t do anything but lunge at him.

It isn’t fair. Tinkering and building—he calls it art; you call it clutter to stub your foot on—has given him strength, from having to clamber and lift his bigger projects. You don’t have any hobbies that give you an edge, so it’s you that ends up against the van’s wall, thumped into it, with his hands bracing yours in the curve where wall and ceiling bend.

It’s not fair, either, that he isn’t even bad-looking. That would make hating him easier.

At least it does so for the fucking.

His bangs are greasy, unwashed, but you like the way they both hide and make his eyes pop. A blue that’ll be downright deadly, once he’s turned. That’ll go bleach-blue, once he’s drank his fill, silver in the worst of blackness. Cheekbones that cut, soft-looking arms that bunch with hidden steel when you try to wrangle yourself free. It’ll cut harsher, harden to bedrock when he’s earned his place.

Maybe there’s something in that nicotine that isn’t, after all. The cigs did look home-rolled.

You’re too busy taking in his tongue to ask.

You feel his laugh buzz around your teeth as you cringe back, at first; he was halfway through puffing out another damn cloud, and it dries out your throat and chalks your tongue.

You get back at him by kissing deeper, biting into his bottom lip where the tattoo is. He has a penchant for rubbing the spot on the outside, you’ve noticed, the nerves scrambled from the overeager vampire that inked it. Yours doesn’t bother you—the meat of it’s raised, but that’s all—but he bites down on yours in retaliation. But the growl he follows it with is light and playful.

"Quit fucking around," you huff.

His grin’s wide and flashes teeth that aren’t sharp. They will be, one day, you can practically see the fangs he’ll get wink down with it. "Get right to it, then? Sure, baby."

"Don’t," you warn, even as he lets your hands go so you can paw at the front of his pants. Baby is too often used when he’s dangling the fact that he’s older (and was found and picked first) over your head. You can’t associate it with anything but the fact that you’re not-really-siblings.

You don’t need some incest angle forced into this. Jesus, no.

He lets it go, not because he’s being nice. You pulling him out is distracting—one of the guaranteed ways you’ve figured out, over the years, that will shut him up.

It doesn’t quiet him entirely. He pants against your cheek where he leans his head against yours, curling his fingers in your hair to keep them busy—they always need to be doing something—and his sharp inhales shake back out thready. He moans when you start stroking him, at a slow and even pace because this is the only peace you’ll get from him anytime soon. You want to take advantage of that. Even if his weight pressing on yours slowly drags you down, until you both kneel on the floor with the junk and trash.

You hiss at the burn in your legs as the hands that are plucking at a knot in your hair drop to your shoulders and bend you back, pinning you back. But the noise gets swallowed as he kisses you again, his hard-on pressing into your stomach.

You get a hand back on his cock, the other pushing his hip out so you can get to it.

"Just think how good this’ll be, when we don’t need air," he hums, panting.

You roll your eyes, but you help him get your jeans down, and he turns you to the van’s wall to get things going.

And it’s going well, his rhythm eager and greedy, your meeting thrusts keeping up, until the van shudders as something heavy drops on its roof.

Your swear gets muffled by the hand that clamps over it. You’re too frozen to bite it like you want to, and you don’t get the chance when you get your wits back because it’s off your mouth just as fast. He’s out of you, with it, and you can’t help but ache at the abrupt end even as he points to one of the TVs and you get your jeans up.

On top of the roof, a reaper’s crouched, scenting—and down the street, from another angle, you watch more lope towards the van.

"Shit," he hisses, fumbling with the panel under the TVs and you get ahold of his gun. You’re already pointing it towards the doors, waiting, as you hear a shriek too awful to even be vampire. Normal vampire.

"Get your pants up," you tell him distantly. If you have to make a run for it, you aren’t risking your own neck to help him up if he trips over himself.

He does, and you shove his gun at him while you grab yours, when a quick glance to the feeds show you aren’t going to be overrun in the second you’re defenseless. But it’ll happen, soon enough; the reaper overhead snarls and the blow it aims lags after the dent and crunch that bursts down, mangling the roof. It’s some kind of rallying or hunting cry, because the reapers in the street begin to sprint.

"Ready?" He’s got a thumb on one of the panel’s switches, ready to flick. "UV’ll smoke most of ‘em, ‘cept the dipshit on the roof."

It’ll try to get in any way it can. You get what his nod to the door means: control where it gets in, so you aren’t surprised.

"Do it."

He does, and when what’s left of the pack is still flaking and sizzling, you put more than enough rounds in the remaining repeal. Just to be safe, one of the UV lights are angled it’s way, where it’s already wilting and curling like a dead spider.

Then it’s gone, too.

It’s a mood killer, but once you’re back in the van and he’s done radioing the team to let them know what’s been dealt with, you get into light petting easily enough.

[kindahoping4forever]

A Little Bit Scandalous, Baby Don’t Let Them See It // Ashton Irwin

There’s really not much explanation for this one. Last month when the content started dropping from Calum’s birthday weekend at The Invisible House, my clown brain took over and I got an idea that just wouldn’t leave. I then unfortunately developed a migraine that also wouldn’t leave (lol) so I didn’t get to write this for a few weeks but once I sat down to do it, it was done in basically a day. I don’t often do plotless smut but I’ve decided to own this filth for what it is. Thanks to @cal-puddies​​ for convincing me not to add 2500 more words of justification and also for letting me know when I was describing this idea that I “went a little too Daddy” and it needed to be an Ash story even though it was about Cal’s birthday 😂

Warnings: Boyfriend!Ash meets Dom!Ash vibes including a fair amount of dirty talk, a few uses of “Daddy,” some general manhandling and loving roughness. Unprotected sex in an established relationship, brief oral sex on a male, hints of voyeurism/exhibitionism

Word Count: 2.8k

Masterlist  // Ko-Fi linked above (New taglist sign-up coming soon)

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

“The bedrooms are all clear!”

“Well, the whole house is all clear, babe, that’s kind of the point.”

“That joke hasn’t gotten any funnier since the first time you tried it, Ash.”

Your boyfriend rushes up behind you and slides his hands into the back pockets of your jeans, squeezing your ass through the material. “You’ve missed my jokes and you know it,” he insists, his loud laugh echoing through the seemingly endless room.

You hate to admit it but he wasn’t entirely wrong. You and Ashton hadn’t seen each other very much lately; your days were spent working from home, too exhausted on most days to make it over to his place for a visit while his schedule was consumed by the band starting work on their new album.

The guys had recently taken to going on mini getaways out to the desert to work; it was clear they missed travelling together as much as they missed playing music and this was a fun and safe way for them to combine the two amidst the ongoing lockdown. When they decided to plan their latest session for the week of Calum’s birthday and make it a “family trip” by inviting their significant others to join, you were thrilled.

Through some of her connections, Crystal was able to book a trendy lodging known as The Invisible House. With a pool running alongside the living area, floor to ceiling glass windows and an entirely mirrored exterior, the property was truly a sight to behold. You drove yourself out to Joshua Tree on Friday after work and spent the weekend lounging, catching up and exploring with everybody.

For you, the one flaw in the house’s design was that it was built as one long continuous rectangle, with only the occasional partition used to divide rooms, so as not to disrupt the lush views. While the desert surroundings were undeniably gorgeous, you would’ve much rather been surrounded by Ashton. You assumed a weekend away would’ve meant some quality time getting reacquainted with each other’s bodies but with your friends always in such close proximity, the opportunity had not presented itself.

Until now, you think to yourself. Everyone was outside chatting and packing up the cars while you and Ash were assigned to do a walkthrough of the house to make sure nobody had left anything behind. Sierra and Luke had popped in about 10 minutes ago to say goodbye and from where you’re standing, you can see Calum, Crystal and Michael still trying to divide up their luggage and the band’s equipment between their cars.

You spin around in Ash’s hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and planting a heated kiss on him. You can tell he’s momentarily taken by surprise but he quickly responds to your passion, tangling his tongue with yours, letting his hands wander around your body.

“So then… you have missed my jokes?” He chuckles when you pull away, attaching your mouth to his neck.

You roll your eyes amusedly, moving to bite gently at his earlobe, tongue teasing around his earring. “We’re finally alone,” you say suggestively, hoping he’ll understand your meaning.

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Uh-huh,” he says pointedly, pressing you tighter against him. “And I suppose that’s giving you ideas, isn’t it, baby?”

You smile coyly, holding his hands on you. “Well… I don’t know about you but I was certainly hoping we’d get some time together this weekend. It’s been a while, we’ve been so busy.”

Ashton grins. “Well… I did offer to take care of you last night.”

You give him A Look. “Sliding your hand down my pajama pants and offering to rub one out for me wasn’t really what I had in mind,” you counter wryly. “All while our friends were just a few feet away.”

A mischievous look crosses his face. “Our friends are just a few feet away now and you’re still coming on to me,” he points out, gesturing towards the vast windows surrounding you.

“It’s different. We’re in here, they’re out there. They can’t see us.”

He smirks at your statement, almost as if he was hoping you'd say that. “Is that so?”

“It’s mirrored glass,” you shrug impatiently, pulling his hand in the direction of the bedrooms.

Ash clearly has other plans, pulling you back into him and kissing you so deeply your head spins. You don’t realize he’s walking you across the room until you feel your back hit the cool glass of the window. You pull away to ask what he’s up to but can’t quite find your words, the mark he’s sucking into your neck and the way his hands are gripping your tits under your shirt proving to be quite the distraction.

“Let’s go, baby,” you pant, squeezing his arms. “We don’t have a lot of time but I need you.”

He turns you around and presses you against the glass, rocking his hips against you, letting you feel that your desire is reciprocated. “If you’re so sure no one can see us, what’s wrong with me taking you right here?”

You recognize the edge in his voice and your body responds with a shiver; he always knows what you need before you do. “I’d like that,” you reply earnestly.

You hear the two forceful spanks his hand gives you before you feel them and you gasp when the sting registers. “I’ll fuckin’ bet you would... get my cock in you, get to fill your incessant need for attention by pretending that everyone can see what a filthy girl you are for me,” he taunts, undoing his belt. “But you’ll get off knowing that in reality I’m still the only one who gets to see you like that, isn’t that right, baby girl?”

You turn to face him, chest heaving but offering him a wide grin. It’s been too long since he’s had you like this. “Missed you, Daddy.”

“We’ll see about that,” he teases, leaning in to kiss you hard. He tugs at your shirt and pants as he pulls away. “Off.”

You purse your lips, not wanting to argue but also not seeing the point in getting undressed for what should be a quickie.

Before you can question him, Ashton explains. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do this right and that means you naked for me. Now.”

You bite your lip to keep from moaning as you watch him pull his cock out of his fly and begin stroking. You lock eyes with him before you start taking your clothes off but you notice his gaze roaming up and down your body as you disrobe. You can’t remember the last time you felt so powerful.

You stand bare in front of him, waiting for whatever comes next. It’s taking everything in you not to reach down and relieve some of the tension building between your legs but you know better.

He walks over to you, hard cock out and shamelessly demanding attention, distracting from his still fully clothed body. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, his kiss much lighter on your lips than you expect, making you whimper with need. His tongue has just finished tracing over your bottom lip when he leans over to your ear and whispers the words you'd been hoping you'd earned: "Good girl."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he turns you back around and you quickly throw your hands out to brace against the glass, spreading your legs, hoping that your eager cooperation will win you some favor with him.

It’s bizarre looking out the window and seeing your trio of friends across from you, laughing and organizing their belongings while Ashton is breathing heavy on your neck, rutting between your ass cheeks a few times before dragging his fingers through your wetness, using it to slick up his cock.

“I’d remind you we need to make this quick but you’re so fuckin’ wet for me, I know it’s not gonna take much to make this needy pussy cum, is it, baby girl?”

You feel yourself throb in response and before you can even fathom responding, he’s sliding into you and suddenly that’s the only thing that matters. You hang your head and let out a long, low groan. “Yessss… fuck,” you moan as he slowly moves in and out of you, giving you a little more of his length each time.

“How long has it been, baby? You sure you can still take all of me?” He teases, leaning to rub at your clit a few times, enjoying the way it makes you squirm.

You breathe deep, appreciating the way he’s stretching you out, the way you always think you remember how good he feels inside you, only to realize that no memory even comes close to the reality of being wrapped around his cock. “Always feels like it’s been too long when you’re not in me, Daddy,” you pant, moving your hips to let him know you’re ready for more. “Need you all the time.”

“I know, baby,” he says sweetly, running his hand slowly down your back with a surprising gentleness. “Gonna give my baby girl what she needs.”

Ash quickly sets about making good on that promise, setting an ambitious pace for himself as he drives his cock inside you hard and deep. You can vaguely see your own reflection in the window and find yourself hypnotized by the way you respond to him; how your face contorts when he hits just where you want him to, the way your tits bounce as he moves against you, the force with which your entire body is propelled by his thrusts.

You feel the beginnings of something stirring in your core and without giving it a second thought, you slide a hand down to your clit, circling it to help yourself along. You’re alerted that Ashton has noticed your choice when you feel his hand tangle in your hair and yank your head back towards him.

“I don’t remember asking for help, baby girl,” he notes sternly. “You were being so good for me until now, too.” He pulls out and you whimper as your pussy continues to thrum, having been so close to climax but now so devastatingly empty.

“Don’t fuckin’ whine, just because you can’t behave doesn’t mean I'm gonna miss out on this pretty pussy makin’ me cum.”

He walks you closer to the glass, pressing your body up against the window and pinning your arms above your head before he pushes back in. He uses one hand to hold the both of yours while his other snakes around to toy with your clit. “How’s this, baby? Were you actually worried I wasn’t gonna make you cum? Disappointed you think I’d let you down like that,” he mocks, faux guilt dripping from his voice.

“No, Daddy, you’re always so good to me,” you murmur, senses overwhelmed. “It just felt so good… got too excited.”

“Fuckin’ impatient is what you got,” he corrects, nipping at your shoulder.

His hips are hitting into you at that delicious angle again and you both can tell that the rhythm he’s found on your clit is going to send you over the edge fairly soon. You hear him choke back what sounds like a genuine laugh and your eyes open in confusion, wondering what could have caused his reaction.

You hold your breath as Michael and Calum walk closer to the window you're about to cum up against. Your eyes search the landscape and you see Crystal in the distance, leaning on the car, taking a phone call. The guys must have decided to give her some privacy and are now hanging out and chatting by the rocks straight in front of you.

Your mind races as you try to recall with certainty if you noticed any visibility when you and the girls were out there taking pictures together the other day. It just looked like a mirror from that side… right?

It’s as if Ash can read your mind as he taunts, “Mirrored glass, right, baby? No way they can see how fuckin’ greedy you get when you have to go a few days without my cock.” He’s breathing heavy now too, clearly excited by the thought of a potential audience. “Couldn’t even wait a few more hours for me to get you alone, needed it so bad you’re letting me have you up against the glass with everyone right there… my greedy girl, what would they think?”

It’s hard to say if it’s because of the questionable situation or Ashton’s teasing words but you feel yourself getting close again and you start to moan. Loudly.

“Just because they can’t see you doesn’t mean they can’t hear you, baby. You really want them to know how bad you want it?” he sneers, working your body faster. “If they can hear your sounds, do you think they can hear how wet you are for me? How hard and deep I’m fucking you?”

You try to keep it down but as you start pulsing around his cock, you can’t help the cries that escape your lips. Ash’s hand moves up to your mouth in a feeble attempt to muffle your outburst. “Aww baby, you know those noises are only for me to hear, when will you learn how to control yourself?” His reprimand only makes you cry out more.

He grunts at the feeling of you nibbling at his palm, still experiencing intense waves of pleasure from your orgasm. He feels your body still tensing in his arms and sees your legs shaking and he decides you need some comfort. He strokes your hair and coos, “Such a good girl, cumming so hard, squeezing me so tight. Does it feel good, baby?”

You hold yourself on the window again, trying to catch your breath. “So good, Daddy...”

He kisses the back of your neck before he continues searching for his release, rough hands massaging your tits as he bounces you on his cock. You softly murmur encouragement, lost in the feeling of pleasing him and the dreamy haze from your own orgasm.

“Where do you want it, baby?” He asks breathlessly. “Kinda want to make you drip for the next 100 miles but you’re such a good girl, you can choose.”

“Wanna taste,” you answer instantly.

“That’s my girl,” he smirks, pulling out and watching fondly as you get on your knees.

You lean your head back against the window and raise your brow expectantly, waiting for him to continue. He gently runs a hand over your face before guiding his cock between your lips. It’s his turn to brace against the glass as he thrusts inside your mouth; you grip the back of his thighs, moaning around him, loving the feeling of being used by him in yet another way today.

Ashton huffs out a string of curses followed by a breathy cry of your name and you feel spurts of cum shooting across your tongue. You rub up and down his legs soothingly, soft sounds of satisfaction leaving your throat as he finishes rocking himself against you.

You pop off of his cock and press a kiss to the tip, smiling up at him as he tries to collect himself, still propped up on the glass. He leans down and kisses you tenderly, hands gently caressing your face.

"This was a good idea, baby," he breathes.

You tousle his hair and smile as he stands back up. He takes off, mumbling something about grabbing the Kleenex box from the bathroom and you hum contentedly, satisfied with your reunion.

Still on your knees, you turn around to peer out the window, wondering how much time you have left before your friends start asking for you. Michael and Crystal catch your attention first and you notice they only have a few items to go before the cars are fully loaded.

You squint, wondering why you don’t see Cal. You laugh to yourself, wondering if he got tired of their project and decided to lay down in one of the cars.

You start to jokingly suggest this to Ash when out of the corner of your eye, you spot some movement. You look up to see Calum, cigarette in hand, standing directly in front of your window. A knowing smile paints his face as he looks down at either his own reflection or at you. You can’t be sure. You surprise yourself as you realize that you can’t say for certain which scenario you would prefer.

You’re still staring out the window, speechless, as Ashton re-enters the room. He unsuspectingly jokes, “Goddamn, baby. Which one of us is gonna get some mirrored glass installed back at home?”

————-

This will most likely be the last fic with this particular taglist as this one has gotten really cluttered with inactive users or changed usernames and it breaks the post so often! If you want to continue to be notified of my fics, be on the lookout for a new sign-up post coming soon!

@mymindwide​​​ @suchalonelysunflower​​​​ @pxrxmoore​​​ @loveroflrh​​​ @ghostofmashton​​​ @sexgodashton​​​ @feliznavidaddycal​​​  

​​​@cashtonasfuck​​​ @megz1985​​​  @angelicfluffs​​​ @findingliam-o​​​ @youngbloodchild​​​  @irwinsbetch​​​ @everyscarisahealingplace​​​

@wiildflower-xxx​ @metalandboybands​  @realisticnotes​  @makeamovehemmings​ @golden166​​ @burstintocolor​

​@youngblood199456​​​​ @notinthesameguey​​​​ @seanna313​​​​  @zhangyixingxing1​​​​ @stardust-galaxies​​​​  @zackoid​​​​

@lovelybonesetc​​​​ @xsongxbirdx​​​​ @justhereforcalum​​​​   @ashtonangst​​​

@calumrose​​​​ @karajaynetoday​​​​ ​​​ @jazzyangel242​​​​ @babylon-corgis​​​​  @heyheyhaleyd​​​​ @calmsweetcreature​​​​

@spicylftv​​​​ @talkfastromance4​​​​  @holystxne​​​​

@meetmedowntown​​​​ @myloverboyash​​​​

@irwindoll​​​​​​​ @carrielfisher​​​​ @lukedorkyhemmings​​​​ @creampiecashton​​​​ @lovelywordsblog​​​​

@trix-arent-for-kids​​ @uh-huhh-honey​​ @tobefalling​​ @aladyofalbion​​ @likehuhdude​​

@curlycalums​​​​  @cxddlyash​​​​  

@fedorable-killjoys​​​​  @iamcalumswhore​​​​   @i-like-5sos​​​​  

@aquarius-hood1996​​  @babylonashton​​  

@begluketostay​​   @mateisit-balsamic​​​

@crazyforcal​​​   @neso-k​​​   @deliciouslydisturbed365​​​  @blxndeprincess

[moonstruckbucky]

The Recruit (6/?)

Summary: Becoming a SHIELD agent had been your dream and finally, you’ve achieved it. You’re at the top of your class in every field except one—hand to hand combat, and it doesn’t impress Captain Rogers in the slightest. Instead, it seems to convince him you’re useless, setting off a tense relationship between the two of you. In an effort to bridge the gap, Bucky offers to help you train to earn your way back into Steve’s good graces. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes (not Stucky)

Warnings for Chapter: Some swearing.

Notes: Wow, last chapter blew the fuck up. I’m excited that y’all seemed to hate that cliffhanger, but I hope this chapter makes up for it! Enjoy! x

Series Masterlist //  Main Masterlist

Captain Rogers looks awkward in your living space - broad, large, and imposing where he sits on the couch. He sits stiffly, feeling out of place in your personal space, your private space, observing the tiny glimpses of who you are. He doesn’t feel he deserves it, doesn’t deserve the chance you’ve, to his own shock, given him.

Your rigid posture, hands behind your back, imply you’re expecting orders. And despite his attitudes toward you, you’d obey without question.

It makes his mouth twitch sadly, and he shakes his head. The gesture draws your eyebrows downward. Confusion, perplexion - he can’t blame you. He’d stood outside your door for thirty minutes and he’s still unsure of what he’s actually going to say.

How about, I’m sorry?

He knows you’re losing your already waning patience with him the longer he remains silent. Swallowing heavily, he forces himself to meet your eyes.

“I… I owe you some apologies.”

You almost succeed in masking the sheer shock your expression morphs into, but you aren’t quick enough. He huffs through his nose, a bit amused by you.

“I know it isn’t what you were expecting to hear but… I’d been doing some thinking - a lot of thinking, actually - and the way I’ve been treating you is far from fair. Or right. I haven’t been very accommodating to you since you first interviewed here, and for that, I’m sorry.”

It’s deathly silent between the two of you, and you’ve managed to school your features back into that quiet stoicism that kind of unnerves him. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, and each second you don’t speak drags by like a lifetime.

“What game are you playing, Captain?” you finally retort, terse and clipped. Even from across the room he can see the suspicion in your eyes, the mistrust. He hates that he’d been the one to put it there.

He spreads his hands, a gesture of innocence. “No games, I promise. I know I haven’t given you any reasons to trust me but, I sincerely hope you believe my sincerest apology. My treatment of you...it wasn’t intended to be personal…”

“It sure as hell felt personal,” you snap, and Captain Rogers winces, nodding in understanding. “I mean, what’s your angle here, Captain?”

The title is said scathingly, mockingly, a sneer curling your features. A look that’s so familiar when it’s directed at him it makes his stomach sink, makes it feel like it’s full of rocks. The guilt and disgust with himself puts a wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“What are you getting out of this? There’s no way you’ve just happened to have a change of heart.”

“And if I have?” he questions sincerely.

“Then I don’t believe you,” is your immediate reply. Muscles in your jaw jumping, you continue, “From the get-go you have been nothing but a self-righteous asshole to me, ridiculing me in front of the other agents, second-guessing me, making me feel like I’d chosen the wrong career. You make me feel small, Captain Rogers, and like I don’t belong here. That being said, if your opinion of me actually mattered as much as you think it does, I would have put my notice in months ago.”

He knows the feeling of not being taken seriously, knows the pressure of being underestimated, ridiculed, taunted, pushed until he thinks he’s going to break. The fact he’s pushed you to this point puts nausea in his stomach.

You, meanwhile, can see every emotion as it plays out across his face. The furrow in his brow has grown more prominent, his frown deeper, fingers tightening into fists where they rest on his thighs. He squeezes his eyes shut and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to be sick. A small part of you realizes he’s actually disgusted in learning how he’s made you feel, but the angrier, less rational side of you is quickly stomping it back down.

He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness - not yet. Too many months had been spent questioning yourself, your training, your confidence. Your resentment of him for making you feel such a way is nearly palpable.

“You’ll understand why I’m having trouble believing a single word you’ve said to me.” Not a question, but a confident statement, and he can only nod. He’s done a lot of that in the time he’s been here, but he deserves every biting remark and question of motive you throw at him.

“So...where do we go from here?”

A valid question, but you aren’t sure of the answer, not right away. A few more moments’ pause and then:

“Give me time. Treat me like a human being, like an agent. Like I belong here because you and I know both know that I do. Start with that, and we’ll see. I can promise to remain professional - but only that.”

“I understand,” he says, and he stands because he’s getting the feeling he’s beginning to overstay his very reluctant welcome. “I know you don’t trust me, but I hope I can earn it back. You are a good agent, Y/N, truly. One of the best I’ve seen.”

He departs after your sharp inhale, a compliment that staggers you, honest-to-god nearly brings you to tears. Because even though he’s been a royal pain in your ass, it’s all you’ve ever wanted to hear him say. 

You’re sure that makes you some kind of mental case, but you can’t find it in you to care. Once the door closes, your knees buckle, dropping you into the armchair. A few tears escape your eyes, emotions in overdrive - first the incident with Bucky, and now this? Your head is spinning, a pulse behind your eyes that warns of an oncoming migraine.

You groan, dig your fingers into your eyes because while dealing with the typhoon that is Captain Rogers, you’d forgotten about Bucky. You’d kissed him, or he’d kissed you - you aren’t really sure how it happened, only that it did.

And it shouldn’t have.

As comfortable as you feel around Bucky, as addictive as his presence is, this can only spell trouble - for you and for him. For one, he’s a higher rank, a commanding officer right underneath Captain Rogers. If anything were to happen between you, it’d be so deeply frowned upon you’d probably have to find another job.

Slamming your fist into the couch feels counterproductive and not nearly as satisfying as punching a wall, but you doubt Director Hill would appreciate having to repair it. So you settle for a hot shower and some Bailey’s in a cup of coffee, a book in bed once you’ve rubbed your skin raw. You have a mission debrief later this afternoon, your second mission, and you can’t help the swell of insecurity - will you fuck this one up like you almost did the last one?

Cursing under your breath at the endless bout of tug-of-war in your head, you abandon the book and rifle through your files for the mission summary. You’re determined to do this next one right.

A part of you, a tiny, miniscule part that speaks up against the crowd, wants to do this to prove Captain Rogers right - that you are a good agent, and that hiring you had been a benefit to SHIELD. You’re determined not to let your blunder on your first mission become your legacy. It bothers you that you feel this way - after all, you’d asserted to the Captain himself that you didn’t give a shit what he thought of you. 

It clouds your concentration - your insistence that the Captain’s opinion doesn’t matter, yet your determination to earn your place amongst the ranks. Growling under your breath, you force yourself to memorize the mission notes front and backwards, shove the Captain and his opinions to the back of your head.

You take the stairs down to the conference room, give yourself a little more time to pour over the debrief. When you get there, you’re surprised to see Sam Wilson amongst the six other agents chosen for this mission.

“Agent L/N,” Hill greets, standing at the forefront of the room in front of a projector screen. She waits for you to take your seat before launching into the mission.

A drug kingpin who grew a little too curious about sense-enhancing substances. A bit too close to HYDRA territory, and it’s a simple extraction job. In and out, cease and desist.

Sam’s sent for supervision, to act as the senior agent in case things go awry. To your delight, they don’t. In fact, things go very, very well. Instead of being ordered to stay behind, Sam assigns you the lead position, lets you map out the plan to the other agents. A few heated glares, others envious of the responsibility you’re given, but overall, your plan comes to fruition neatly and quietly. Minimal hand-to-hand, zero injuries or deaths on either side, and you’ve successfully pilfered the scientific documents for the new substances.

You’re congratulated by Sam back on the jet, a bright grin against his dark skin. You like Sam, respect him and appreciate that he hasn’t seemed to judge you for the last time you worked together. In fact, he seems to recognize completely your desire for redemption and he sings your praises on the ride back to the tower, to your embarrassment. Some of the other agents warm up to it and join in, while others roll their eyes and turn away.

It brings heat to your cheeks as he rests a hand on your shoulder and says, lowly so as not to be too overheard, “I can see why Barnes likes you so much.”

A cold panic washes over you, but you just manage to keep it off your face. “What are you talking about?”

A simple disbelieving glance from Sam, a nervous shuffle on your end, and it tells him everything. He smiles knowingly.

“I won’t tease you about it, but you got our resident Iceman all tied up in knots.”

He chortles heartily while your face flames, and you have to look away. Though you feel the twitch of a smile trying to get through. It shouldn’t make you feel as giddy as it does, considering just that morning you’d run away from him.

But knowing you make him feel the same way he does you puts a lightness in your chest, and you resolve to talk to him, apologize for running. The flutters in your stomach intensify as the jet nears the tower, and if Sam picks up on your sudden urgency, he doesn’t say anything.

Chapter Seven

[sourbat]

I felt like exploring magtok HCs, and ended up writing this little scene/ficlet. Let me know what you guys think :D

Summary: A short scene where Magnus and Toki get out of a messy scuffle.

Rating: T for swearing, violence and reference to blood and injury

Pairing: Magnus and Toki

Magnus remembered the pit. Heck, he had told Toki more than his fair share of stories of when he dabbled in other scenes, and partook in crazed rituals that left him sore, bloody and bruised the morning after. The lights. The sweat. The energy. The late-night train rides and sneaking into tight alleys leading out of the high street and to shanty basement dwellings that pulsed bass and drum beats. The incredible sound of punk rock blasting up close, lyricists giving the orders to the crowds to unleash their bridled rage and scare away the casual listeners and tourists looking to get a taste of the underground scene. Stomping. Yelling. Heads banging, leather belts and cheap metal chain links swaying in tandem to a rapid, unforgiving beat. Boots slipping on booze or loose pins, and nostrils taking in the thick, dangerous atmosphere. His hand forming a tight, hot fist that flung into the steamy hot air, across the angry rowdy crowds or, if it came to it, straight into someone’s jaw.

Perhaps it was his enthusiasm, those nostalgic tales where he was younger and the hero of his own tale that lead to Toki inviting him closer to the stage, into the raging swell of drugged and drunken thrill seekers. And though Magnus entered the compacted club already so overwhelmed by the flashing red stage lights, bodies fighting at the door, for a seat or spot at the bar, and music amplified to its max, when Toki asked him to join him in the mosh pit, Magnus happily obliged.

Somehow, he forgot the pain, and it wasn’t until he was too far deep, lost in an entanglement of dangerous bodies that crashed and slammed into his older, frailer self, did Magnus finally recall the wet snap of a broken nose, the icy-hot sting of cracked, torn knuckles, and the agonizing, nauseating migraine that almost always arose after taking several blows to the face the following morning.  The first rough bump startled him, but he thought he could regain a better sense once he had his footing. An elbow to his side hindered a chance for recovery, and someone shoving him into a bystander, heads colliding, made things worse. Magnus was still on his hands and knees when someone pulled him up and decked him in the cheek. No time to explain himself, just a fist bashing into the side of his head. The booming of the music throbbed along with the blurring vision, and as he stumbled back, heard Toki’s vicious war cry.

They put up a good fight. He did as well as an old bastard could, tagging himself free of any responsibility shortly after a nasty ringed fist to his mouth earned an unsatisfying snap from within. After that, Magnus let Toki finish the job, and pondered the extent of his damage, and when exactly he became too old for this sort of thing before blacking out.

He regained consciousness a few minutes later. They were in a gated alleyway right outside of the club. Toki helped him lean against the wall before making a turn for his phone. Magnus rubbed his aching temples, listening to Toki’s short call and learning they’d have a ride in just a few minutes.

“Wowee, that was something,” he said through a stuffy nose. He picked up on how odd he sounded and, through teary eyes, pressed his finger against his nostril and snorted out a ball of congealed blood and mucus. Lovely.

Both stared at the fat glob, giving it an appropriate moment of silence out of respect for its size and composure.

“Thanks for your help,” Magnus mentioned once it had passed, then gently applied pressure around his nose with his forefinger. He was hot to the touch, and the skin was swelling tight and thin, but it didn’t appear that his nose was broken. Thank goodness. Magnus wasn’t sure if he could afford another tooth on top of a broken nose. “You really saved my ass back there.”

“No problems.” Another forced snort, and then Toki regained his posture. “We makes a good teams.”

“Yeah, we do.”

Magnus licked his gums, then tracing a trail of blood up to the pooling hole where a tooth once lay. The location was far enough where it wouldn’t impact any new impressions, but was it far enough to stave off an expensive visit for a few months?

Thankfully, the alcohol impeded any further concern for money. A hand picked him up by the chin, and as Magnus shirked away at the slightest change of pressure, fell into a brief state of comfort at the sight of Toki’s welcoming smile.

Half his face was covered in drying blood or clots, and what wasn’t had hair sticking to it, adhered to with old sweat. Toki was red and blotchy, some parts still carrying monikers of where rings made impact. Magnus was positive Toki’s left forearm was bruised in several places, with his bicep already speckled unevenly with purple and blue. There was a bit of blood here and there, but most of it was seeping through his left nostril. Otherwise, Toki was in decent shape. He was a mess, but he survived. He did well. Better than Magnus, and he looked good doing it. Hell, bloody cheeks and snot be damned, Toki still looked good.

“You. Uhm… it was pretty hot when you kicked that guy in the nuts,” he mentioned as Toki reached to help pull him off from the wall.

“Thanks.” Toki squeezed Magnus’ arms. Then, another smile, and this time Magnus made out a bloody, cracked tooth barely holding on to the gums.

“Holy shit, Toke.” Magnus grabbed Toki and squinted his good eye to better assess the damage. “Your tooth…”

Second tooth from the front, where everyone could see. Cracked down the middle, and pushed outwards from a hemorrhaging socket. If they hurried and put it on ice, then a dentist might be able to save the tooth.

“I think your tooth is about to fall out,” Magnus stated, his slightly grim expression shifting from Toki’s shrinking grin to his confused, periwinkles eyes.

“Oh, dats all?” Toki asked back, then put his hand to his mouth. With the precision expected from a drunk, he reached into his mouth, prodded the tooth with the blunt end of his finger. The whimpers Toki’s coughed out send a nasty chill down Magnus’ back.

“Toki!” Magnus shook his head as Toki performed a pained dance in front of him. “Are you seriously trying to yank your own tooth out?”

“Yeah?”

“And lose the whole tooth?”

“Ams not a problems,” Toki said gently and with a slight lisp. “Charles gives Toki and Dethklok the best plan on accounts of all the accidentals we gets into.”

He sniffed, then wiped some of the many tears flowing down his cheeks with his shirt. Carefully, and barely patting the side with the now ailing loose tooth.

“You knows” he added, waving a pointed finger at Magnus. “You ams also on the same plans now.”

Toki noticed the missing tooth? Maybe the gape wasn’t as deep as Magnus hoped, but the promising news of a dental plan immediately grabbed his attention. He recalled the many documents Offdensen made him sign a few weeks ago to effectively be considered an “unofficial” member of Dethklok incorporated. He knew a certain amount of Toki’s insurances and privileges were extended unto him, though to what degree was still being unraveled. Of the many pamphlets sent to him the following week, were any for dental plans?

Suddenly Toki’s phone went off. The klokateers were here, ready to pick them up. A hand sticky with blood took Magnus the hand.

“Was thinking. Maybe we can gets new teeth togethers,” Toki suggested. His bloody, swollen face attempted what Magnus thought was a smile. His double-vision brought on by the migraine made it difficult to tell. But he was sure Toki just invited him on a date to see a dentist, and whether Magnus could afford it or not, his boyfriend was a billionaire.

“Yeah?” he said, trying to snicker and appear as casual about the invitation as he could. But the pulsing in his head made it difficult to stand straight, and his right eye shed some tears as a car flashed light in their general direction. He winced, but once the pain leveled, and Toki coaxed him into blindly following him though the smokers, around the gated area and back into the quiet comforts of their limo, Magnus muttered that he’d rearrange his calendar.   

“Thinks you can makes room for tomorrows?” Toki whispered into Magnus’ crown just before the gear readied a syringe loaded with delicious morphine.

Eyes closed, Magnus brushed his bruised cheek against Toki’s shoulder. “Sure.”

The needle hadn’t yet gone in when Toki placed a soft kiss on top of Magnus’ aching head. He did his best to appreciate it, but the pain proved itself too much.

“Ow.”

A nervous chuckle. “Sorries.”

[background-noise-headache]

Hurt the Bard, but like, Emotionally/Non-lethally

Um, terribly painful Jaskier-whump idea. (This has some Geraskier elements in it, but in a pre-relationship, developing friendship way, featuring a lot of Geralt openly caring for Jaskier because that’s my head canon, Geralt speaks with actions and his eyes, not his words. 

I know the fandom likes to play with the idea of Jaskier’s parents being distant or abusive or neglectful. Which I do enjoy, but I vibe more with the idea that Jaskier had very supportive parents and that’s why he’s so confident and open and affectionate.

So, this: The court mage’s apprentice is bitter and angry seeing all this love that annoying brat (only a few years younger than him) gets. The jealousy is eating at him. Jaskier goes to Oxenfurt then sets out on his own to become a bard with the encouragement of his parents even if it’s not what’s expected of a viscount.

Somewhere between when Jaskier meets Geralt to the djinn incident (I imagine after Cintra) Jaskier is home for a while, telling his family about his adventures and being showered in love and sharing that love back with them, he’s missed them so much.

The apprentice is now the court mage and that anger has never gone away, just been buried and smothered because dude does not have the best coping mechanisms, no one ever taught him any. Asshole decides to cast a curse on Jaskier:

“Every kind word will cause you pain and make you rot on the inside, but no one will see the pain they cause you. It won’t kill you physically, but you’ll swear you’re dying. Every kind word, every compliment, will make you rot until the only relief and joy you get is when someone insults you. You’ll beg for them to hate you, beg for them to spit in your face.”

By the next day it’s clear how effective the curse is.

(Okay, trigger warning for body horror, skin issues, medical wounds. This is honestly me coping with a terrible nightmare I had a few years back that I never completely got over and sometimes I need to talk about it. So, bear with me, or skip to my line of astrisks)

(You know what, additional trigger warnings for toxic relationships and emotional abuse between Jaskier an characters only mentioned in the show but never seen. You know the ones)

By rot, I mean that when Jaskier looks at his skin it looks like it’s bruising, and then cracking, bleeding, pealing away. It’s molting and pussy and awful (that is specifically what it looked like in my dream, the skin on my left arm was molting.) But nobody fricken sees it! Jaskier can point to the wounds, groan in pain, nobody sees the cause. It’s not actually there, it’s technically in his head because that’s what the curse does, it won’t kill him, just rot him. 

So immediately Jaskier realizes he has to leave home because every time he sees his parents and his siblings and his neices and nephews they’re excited and happy and loving. They’re quick to realize something’s wrong, but Jaskier knows they can’t see the way his skin is turning. He leaves without saying goodbye because he can’t explain.

He travels, avoids his friends and familiar places where he’s known. But when he performs his audience will tell him how wonderful his songs were and patrons will flirt and it’s all pain. It’s less painful to avoid performing, but harder to survive without it. But he can’t always bear the pain, it’s just too much sometimes.

He runs into an old classmate. He and Valdo were never close, several years apart in age. They chat, they flirt, they go to bed together. Valdo is sparing with his compliments, and very observant. Because Jaskier gets irritable with pain and too many nice words makes him lash out, but insults stir a fire in his eyes that Valdo enjoys. He thinks he knows what Jaskier really wants. He’s not sure how he feels about it, but Valdo can’t remember the last time he had a fling so interesting and contradictory.

They travel for a while. Jaskier becomes a backup for Valdo’s performances, getting a share of the coin to get by and minimal attention. It’s better this way, he tells himself.

One drunken night he tells Valdo about the curse. To Valdo it makes too much sense and it’s so tragic and the tragedy makes it more romantic. The relationship is downhill from there as Jaskier realizes the kind of situation he’s gotten himself into and how he’s becoming dependent on Valdo’s cruelty, and how much crueler it feels if Valdo says something nice.

He leaves.

He meets the Countess. She flirts with insults and thrives making people feel lower than her. She pays him a lot of money to play for her and takes him to bed and rarely has a kind word and if he avoids drinking too much he’ll never fall into the same trap he did with Valdo.

And then a song begins circulating about a poor bard cursed to long for pain and cruelty, who will never know love again. Which fucking hurts worse than any of this shit before, the message that he’ll never be loved again burns.

The Countess grows bored and kicks him out. He travels for a few weeks, to tired and burnt out to perform and goes through his money fast. He also had jack-all in the way of travel supplies, not even a bedroll, so it’s a rough few weeks after he can no longer afford a bed under a roof.

And then he meets Geralt on the bank of the Pontar. Gods it’s nice to focus on someone else’s problems for a moment. And then the fillingless pie comment, and it’s the first time in a Gods-know-how-long time that he finds no relief in the insult, only annoyance. And that old habit of bickering with Geralt kicks in because even if it’s been a few years they’re still friends. 

(Yes, they��re friends. I head canon that Geralt says they’re not friends 1. because he has obvious abandonment issues and self loathing problems, as the fandom well knows, and 2. every time he says he and Jaskier aren’t friends, Jaskier insists they are with more and more evidence to prove it and it makes Geralt feel warm and fuzzy. Eventually they had that conversation and Jaskier knows what Geralt actually means/wants to hear when he says they’re not friends)

(also Geralt has been plagued with insomnia for weeks or months on end, and I’m telling you, you would be cranky too. Not getting enough sleep gives me migraines, worsens my snow vision, makes my ADHD worse, and makes me irritable. That’s why Geralt is so grumpy on the river bank)

So for a few minutes he forgets about the curse and the festering rot on his skin. And then the djinn, and he’d really like to get back at the two people that have hurt him the most recently, and then break this stupid fucking curse already.

No such luck.

And after all the djinn nonsense, Yen makes the offhanded comment, “Where’s your cursed bard run off to.”

“He shouldn’t be cursed any more.”

“Oh no, he was cursed long before the djinn.”

“Why didn’t you tell me!”

“I didn’t see it until you left.”

“And you didn’t break it?”

“It wasn’t killing him. The djinn was. One problem at a time. The djinn needed to be solved before this curse.”

So, yeah, Yennefer and Geralt find Jaskier outside and they have a long talk about it. Yen needs a day to prepare for breaking the curse because she’s already used a lot of chaos today and she needs rest. (And those two idiots need to talk, she can see it and it’s giving her a migraine she needs to sleep off)

Jaskier tells Geralt about the last year or so of his life. It’s fucking shit.

The curse is broken. There’s no sign of rot on Jaskier’s skin, no pain when anyone says something kind, like “we are friends” and “I missed you” which is a relief.

But the emotional changes won’t go away overnight. Jaskier responds to kindness with hostility and takes insults in silence. And Geralt isn’t doing well watching someone he cares about act... act like Geralt. Self-hating and believing they need cruelty to be normal. And there’s no traveling therapist either. So they’re doing the best they can. But it’s a rough few years as Jaskier unlearns all that shit.

It kind of convinces Geralt to get his head a little more out of his ass and stop hating himself so much, realizing how painful it must be for Jaskier and his brothers and Vesemir and Yennefer to watch.

The mountain is just a really awful few days. Jaskier takes Geralt’s lashing with minimal resistance. A comment that it’s not fair is a vast improvement from 5-6 years ago, but nothing like his younger self would have responded, all puffed up dramatics until Geralt realized how ridiculous he was being.

Geralt and Jaskier have an awkward, stunted few days hiking down the mountain, during which Jaskier decides he needs to go to the coast and sort himself out. He’ll see Geralt next spring.

He goes home and spends that autumn with his family. It’s the most healing three months he’s ever had. The mage has long since left, and Jaskier’s not sure he’ll ever get that closure, but he’ll take what healing he can get now. He’s more like his old self than he’s ever been since the curse broke.

And then Geralt shows up on the edge of winter, limping with an exhausted child surprise and a wounded sorceress by his side. Jaskier gives them shelter for a few nights but they can’t stay, they’ll in danger as long as they’re stuck down south.

The night before they leave, Geralt and Jaskier talk, clear the air. Geralt asks if Jaskier is happy. He is. So Geralt decides not to ask Jaskier to join him. Yennefer is the one to ask, because fuck that idiotic bullshit and Ciri already knows him from a few winters spent at Cintra and adores him, and he’s already great with kids, a skill Yennefer and Geralt can’t claim yet.

Jaskier’s family supports him, of course they do. He promises to return home soon.

* * *

So like, I was going to pose this as a writing prompt and offer it to anyone who wants to write it. I didn’t intend to develop it so much, but getting it out of my system helped a lot. I needed to get all those ideas out.

If it speaks to you, feel free to run with it, but please include a link to this original post or mentioned me. My ao3 is Shadowmightwrite17

(yeah, tbh, that nightmare still haunts me. I told my parents about it immediately, but I didn’t open up about it to anyone until last summer when I told my best friend about it. I was like, “did I ever tell you about that one nightmare I had where my skin was molting off my arm?” and he was like, “no. no you did not. wtf” But there was also a thing last week when I read a vaguely body-horror sentence in a Witcher fanfic about something moving under your skin and I remembered again, so like, I needed to talk about it somehow)

[joon-ipersgirl]

"dance with me" - jhs twoshot

genre: strangers to lovers!au, fluff, tiny bit of angst

pairing: hobi x reader (f)

summary: this is the first part of hobi’s birthday twoshot where he meets a girl on a night out on the town but loses her (a better summary will come later)

word count: 1.8k

warnings: some cursing, mentions of alcohol, not a happy ending rn

a/n: whew it's been a minute. as per, school and work are kicking my ass but i wanted to write something for hobi's birthday. i actually finished this first half on time but was stuck on the second half before i decided i should make this into a twoshot. i'm going to finish it though, hopefully soon. i’ll edit everything later. either way, enjoy :)

full masterlist // part two

“Guys, I really shouldn’t,” Hoseok laments.

“Why not?” Jimin whines from his sprawled out position on Hoseok’s aging leather sofa. “It’s been weeks since you’ve come out with us.”

Hoseok shrugs. “I’ve just been… busy,” he finishes lamely.

“Doing what?” Jungkook challenges from the kitchen, his voice barely carrying over the low hum of the open refrigerator.

“Okay, I guess I haven’t been doing too much. I just haven’t been in the mood? Life is just a lot right now,” Hoseok says as he picks at the fraying carpet on the floor. He really should get a new one.

“So, let us help you feel better!” Jimin rolls off the sofa, narrowly missing Hoseok’s head with his legs and keeping his leather pants intact. “A night out dancing with your best friends. Maybe a few drinks. You don’t even have to bring anyone home if you don’t want to.”

Hoseok is still iffy on Jimin’s proposal. Usually, he’d be the one encouraging his friends to enjoy a night out on the town but starting his new job at the architectural firm downtown a few weeks ago had really taken its toll. He knew that he’d have a lot to learn when he started but he didn’t think it’d be this much, the new programming and drawing systems much more sophisticated than what he’d remembered during his undergraduate matriculation. Hoseok spent much of his free time practicing his skills, exhausting himself late into the night. All he wanted to do was rest but it was proving to be challenging after his friends showed up on his doorstep tonight, demanding he join them.

“I don’t know, Jimin.”

“You don’t have to know anything. Look, if you aren’t having a good time by midnight, I’ll call you a cab home myself,” Jimin offers. “And Jungkook will buy you your first three drinks,” he tacks on after seeing Hoseok’s unwavering expression.

“Hey!” Jungkook exclaims from the entryway.

“It’s the least you could do, Jungkook. You’re literally eating him out of house and home right now,” Jimin says, pointing to the roll of kimbap Jungkook has in his hands.

“You can’t drink on an empty stomach,” the younger one counters.

“You ate an hour ago.”

“Fair enough,” Jungkook concedes. “Get dressed, Hobi. Drinks are on me,” he finishes around a mouthful of food. Jimin beams, turning to Hoseok.

Sighing, Hoseok reluctantly drags himself to his feet. “Fine. But you’re buying me drinks and dinner. Nope. I don’t want to hear it,” he says, holding up a finger. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Yes!” Jimin cheers as Hoseok heads to his room.

Twenty five minutes later, the three young men arrive at Antarri’s. Known for its strong drinks and booming bass, Antarri’s had become their regular stomping ground. It was safe to say a few other patrons recognized them in the dark; the trio’s dance reputation preceded them. On any given weekend the establishment would be flooded with young people ready to let loose their frustrations. The proximity of the city’s two major universities being just over a stone’s throw away may also help.

“Okay! Shots first!” Jimin yells over the incessant chatter. Hoseok shakes his head but follows his friend deeper into the club.

“What should we get?”

“Nothing too crazy -” Hoseok starts.

“Tequila!” Jungkook interrupts, waving his arm frantically for the bartender’s attention. Both Jimin and Hoseok blanch at the suggestion. “What? I’m buying. I should get to choose.”

Jimin shrugs. “He is buying.”

Hoseok rubs his forehead, already feeling the splitting migraine he’d have tomorrow morning. Alcohol never seemed to agree with him and he’d learned many times what pushing his limit did to him. Still, he doesn’t protest when Jungkook orders, “Your finest shots of tequila, my good sir.”

Maybe the night would pass by faster this way.

“Okay guys. What’s the game plan?” Jungkook asks around a mouthful of lime.

“Just have fun. If you’re leaving, send a text will you? I don’t want another repeat of last time,” Jimin huffs and sets his shot glass down on the counter.

“I wasn’t even gone for that long!”

“You came back the following evening missing your shirt and a shoe, Jungkook,” Jimin frowns.

“Okay but -“

“Guys,” Hoseok interjects. “Not the time.”

“Right. This is about you, Hobi. We’re going to have a great time. And you -“ Jimin points his finger at Jungkook.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll text the chat that I’m alive. Let’s go!” Jungkook says, pushing off the stool and heading into the crowd.

Hoseok shakes his head at his younger friend. He worried about his safety sometimes.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Jimin checks in.

“Yeah, yeah. Go have fun. I’ll see you in there,” Hoseok responds. Nodding, Jimin pats him on the arm before setting off.

“Remember, I’ll call you a cab if you aren’t having fun,” he calls over his shoulder and then disappears.

Moving over to a less crowded part of the bar, Hoseok leans against the wall. Already his shirt is starting to stick to his skin. The music blares at an obscene level he feels in his bones and he welcomes the feeling.

Though an architect by trade, Hoseok knew his way around a dance floor. He wasn’t captain of the university’s dance team for no reason. Music was a language Hoseok translated with his body, each syllable corresponding to a particular movement as he listened to each rhythm and rhyme. Closing his eyes, he lets it speak it to him.

It doesn’t take long for him to get lost in the feeling. Limbs moving freely, Hoseok glides across the floor easily. He’s not concerned with the curious onlookers as he grooves to one of Billboard’s latest bangers. A small crowd has started to form around him but Hoseok ignores them as he spins through a move. Then, he sees you.

His body sputters through the movement until he slows to a gentle rock, eyes trying to focus on you through the pockets between people’s heads. You aren’t looking at him. Too engrossed in your own movement as you vibe with the music. Hoseok almost feels as though he’s watching himself dance. Intrigued, he moves closer.

He’s pretty sure he’s never seen you here before. Granted he doesn’t remember every face he sees but Hoseok is positive he would remember you because of the way you move. Blinking, he feels like he’s in a trance as he watches you turn, your hips swaying in time with the beat. Hoseok realizes he’s not the only one watching you. A few other guys have gathered but you ignore their presence, favoring to dance alone. Hoseok chews his lip. Did he even have a chance?

The music changes and Hoseok watches you change your movement to match the tempo seamlessly. He smiles. He would do exactly the same. Smooth RnB filters out over the sound system and Hoseok calms his beating heart, finding his own rhythm again as he slips back into his translation. When he turns, he makes eye contact with you, a small smile on your lips as you regard him. He’s pretty sure it’s the alcohol that makes him bold enough to take a step towards you.

Though you don’t move closer, your eyes don’t leave Hoseok’s. A silent exchange happens between you as you continue dancing and Hoseok matches your movements while maintaining his distance. Hoseok nearly holds his breath as you tentatively step closer. If he were to reach out, he’d surely be able to touch you. He doesn’t though. The two of you continue to dance in front of one another, though not with each other as the song changes.

When you turn - back towards him and continue dancing - Hoseok isn’t too sure of what to do. He doesn’t want to impose and ruin your night but he sure as hell would love to dance with you. He takes another tentative step forward, the space between you what chaperones at prom would call encroaching on dangerous territory. Still, he doesn’t touch you though he’s sure you can feel his breath dance across your skin.

It’s you who makes the final move.

He feels your fingertips brush against the outside of his thigh until your fingers wrap around his and place them on your hip. Jeans slung low on your waist, Hoseok’s thumb rests against your bare skin. He lets his other hand settle on the outside of your thigh, his touch light so not to scare you.

Chest against your back, Hoseok matches his hips with yours, the swell of your ass pressed tightly to his crotch. When you curl your arm around the back of his neck, fingers splayed in the hairs at his nape, Hoseok squeezes you in reflex. The heat of Antarri’s only grows worse as you continue to dance and another small crowd gathers to watch you.

Hoseok has never felt so at ease dancing with another human being. He feels like you’ve been partners since you were three and took classical ballroom together for eighteen years. You read his movements and he reads yours as you trade the role of leader and follower back and forth. In all honesty, Hoseok doesn’t want the night to end, especially when you hit a particularly dangerous move - bending at the waist with your hands on your knees, the push back firm as his hand ghosts your back. He has to stifle a groan at the sight, more than a few ungentlemanly thoughts surfacing in response.

Spinning you around, Hoseok gazes down at you as he slots one of his legs between yours. A gentle smile crosses your face and you rest your hands loosely around his neck. Hoseok gently brushes your damp hair from your forehead. You don’t look away as his hand comes to rest under your jaw. He watches your tongue swipe against your bottom lip as he wraps his arm around -

“Y/N!”

The moment is broken at the scream of what Hoseok assumes is your name.

“Y/N, come on! We have to go! Code Blue!” Hoseok loosens his hold on you as you step away. Before either of you can utter a word, your friend is pulling you through the crowd and away from him. Over the din of the music, he faintly hears you call a “Sorry!” as you disappear.

Stunned, Hoseok stands in the middle of the crowd as your figure slowly becomes lost in the sea of swaying bodies. He feels like he’s just stepped out of a sauna, the trance you placed him in lifting as people start to fill in the space around him now that the show is over. Hoseok rubs his face in frustration. How could he have let you leave like that? How was he supposed to find you?

“Hobi! Hey Hobi!” Hoseok turns at the sound of his name to see Jimin elbowing his way through the crowd. “Hey, are you okay?”

Sighing, Hoseok nods.

“Okay,” Jimin says wearily. “Do you want to leave?”

“No, it’s okay. Jungkook still owes me two more shots. I gotta collect.”

Jimin grins. “That’s the spirit! Come on, let’s go.”

Tossing one last longing look to what was supposed to be a promising night, Hoseok follows his friend to the bar to forget what could have happened.

full masterlist // part two

joon-ipersgirl, 2021

[softestvirgil]

Switching Places

Inspired by an ask I got a few nights ago! 

Summary: The sides get their roles swapped

Genre: Canon-verse

Rating: PG

Pairing(s): None

Word count: 3461

Warnings: Remus, Deceit, Sex mentions, cursing, dead animal mentions, fighting, light angst

Let me know if there’s any more I should add!

It was after three in the morning, and Thomas had been trying to sleep for hours, but it wasn't working. His mind seemed to be at war. So, he decided to do what he always did when that happened.

"Guys, we need to have a conversation!" Thomas shouted in his living room, and one by one the sides were summoned against their will, each one looking more disheveled than the last. 

"It's three in the morning, Thomas. Is something the matter?" Logan asked as he rose up. 

Patton rubbed his eyes and agreed. "Yeah, it is quite late, kiddo," 

"What could possibly be so important you needed to interrupt me in the middle of my beauty sleep, Thomas?" Roman snapped, sassily gesturing to his face when he said "beauty". 

"Don't think your beauty sleep is working," Virgil commented, annoyed by the whole situation but mostly how loud Roman was being. 

Deceit smirked from beside Logan. "I think it is," 

"Oh great, he's here," Virgil grumbled. "This night just keeps getting better,"

Logan blinked at Deceit. "I… didn't even notice his presence. I'm usually the first one to call out his name. Have I lost my touch?"

"Yeah, I called all of you," Thomas said and looked nervously over at the TV behind Roman.

"Oh no," Roman whispered. "We just got rid of him!" 

"Rid of me?" Remus laughed. "I'm not a dead pet, Roman. You can't just bury me in the backyard," 

"Dead pet?" Patton repeated with wide eyes.

Thomas sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Listen, guys. We need to talk and then I promise, I will go to bed," 

"Great. What can we assist you with, Thomas?" Logan asked.

"Well, you all seem to be… at each other tonight…" Thomas began, looking at each side.

Roman scoffed. "Whatever do you mean? We've been getting along just fine," 

"Oh, really?" Thomas asked, looking to Virgil for confirmation.

"That has… not been my experience," Virgil said, staring daggers at Deceit. 

Thomas quirked a brow. "Well, what's going on, Virge?" 

"Oh, they have a nickname for you now… how cute," Deceit faux complimented, smirking as if he had the upper hand due to Virgil's violent reactions.

Virgil rolled his eyes. "The only thing that's cute here is that you even think you're getting to me,"

"Am I not?" Deceit wondered, eyeing the anxious side as he angrily tapped his foot on the floor. 

"No," Virgil said firmly, while still tapping.

Thomas sighed in frustration. "Listen, guys! I just, need you to explain how this all started. Please,"

"He," Virgil gestured to Deceit, who waved sensually. "Won't stop randomly showing up in my room,"

Deceit faked hurt. "What? I can't visit an old friend?" 

"We are not friends," Virgil told him. "And even my friends aren't allowed in my room," 

Roman nodded. "It's true, we're not," 

Remus perked up. "Oh golly, some pretty kinky stuff must be happening in there… wanna give us all the juicy details?" 

"What is with you and the word juicy?" Thomas asked to which Remus just shrugged.

"I just like it, it paints a nice picture… like the picture of a-"

"Yes, a butthole. Got it," Thomas finished for him.

Remus laughed. "Wow, Thomas! You're learning. I'm so proud," 

Virgil defended himself. "No, Remus nothing… kinky is happening in there!" 

"That is exactly what someone who has a super-secret sex dungeon would say…"  Remus commented, wiggling around for emphasis. 

"Moving on. They aren't the only ones who aren't getting along," Logan announced.

"Do tell," Thomas said tiredly.

"Well, Roman and I have had our fair share of arguments recently," Logan explained, and everyone looked at him as if he had just told the funniest joke.

"You… are you really that un-self-aware?" Virgil asked him. 

"What do you mean?" Logan replied, quirking a brow.

Virgil groaned. "I mean, you guys are always fighting! It's not exactly breaking news," 

"The only reason we're arguing in the first place is because of his stupid punctuality planner! It has so little room for creativity," Roman whined, stomping his feet like an angry child. 

"You have an hour allotted that should be plenty of time," Logan replied dryly, ignoring the matter at hand.

Roman scowled. "An hour is not even long enough to get the ball rolling, but if you were creativity you would know that," 

"Ball rolling… like… testicles… taped to a bowling ball?" Remus yelled, and everyone made respective sounds of disgust. 

"No… not at all..  like that," Roman replied, moving further away from his brother. 

Patton frowned. 

"Patton? You've been rather quiet. How are you holding up?" Thomas asked his moral side, who managed to work up a smile. 

"Oh yeah! I'm doing just fine, Thomas," He said, with a cheerfulness that almost seemed eerie.

"Yeah, he's lying," Deceit stated blankly, looking at his fingers.

"Yeah… I knew that, but thanks," Thomas replied. 

"I- wasn't lying I just…" Patton started but stopped himself. 

"It's okay. You can tell me," Thomas told him, with a warm smile.

"Well… I just don't enjoy how… frequent, Remus has been talking about dead animals and such,"

Remus laughed. "Dead animals are funny though, Patton. There's this one picture Thomas saw where-" 

Thomas shook his head, covering his ears "No! No. Do not bring that up. Or I'll definitely not be getting to sleep tonight," 

"If you'd just tell him-" Remus pointed at Patton, “and him,” he pointed at Virgil. "-to relax, and stop being such prudes, then everything would be fine," 

"I am not a prude. I just don't like hearing that kind of stuff. Animals are so wonderful and I love them!" Patton yelled, shocking everyone. 

Remus giggled. "Oh no! Daddy's putting his foot down, everyone. What're you gonna do, huh? Spank me?" 

"Well maybe if you two would just leave, then we can call it a night," Virgil said, and the two dark sides looked genuinely hurt by his words, which Thomas was surprised by.

"I tend to agree, Virgil," Roman said and Virgil glared at him. "I just mean that… you're being a bit too p- uh, overly cautious," 

"Okay, you know what? You can leave too," Virgil sneered and Roman gasped at him, putting his hand to his chest.

"Okay, no. Guys, is there any way we can settle this for the night, without anybody leaving?" Thomas asked, looking to everyone for an idea.

Then after a moment of silence, Roman finally came up with a plan. 

"I have an idea," He declared abruptly.

Logan exhaled, tiredly adjusting his glasses. "Oh, do tell," 

Roman suddenly looked tense. "Well… you're not going to like it," 

"What is it, Roman?" Thomas pleaded.

"We could go into daydream mode and... switch roles, " Roman explained. "And then that would allow us to see from each other's point of view?"

"Switch roles? Is that even possible?" Thomas wondered. 

"Anything is possible in the mind palace Thomas," Roman bragged with a smile. "My job is pretty cool you know," 

"You're right. I do not like this," Logan informed.

Patton raised his hand as if he was in class "I'm willing to try. If it'll help," 

Virgil widened his eyes. "I'm not! Thomas this is a bad idea. A very bad idea," 

"Listen, I'm willing to try anything. I'm exhausted and you guys fighting is what is causing that. So if switching roles can help you put aside your differences and see from each other's points of view, then I'm all for it," Thomas announced. 

"It may work but I already have an idea of where this is going and I would rather go back to the old puppet idea," Logan said. 

"Oh, come on Logan. It might be fun!" Patton encouraged.

"Hmm. Would it be so fun for you if you got switched with one of them?" Virgil asked the "them" he was referencing was obvious to everyone, including the ones he meant. 

"Uh, well…" Patton trailed off nervously.

"I just proved my point," Virgil stated. "Let's just table this for another time," 

Thomas reached his limit. "You know what? That's it. Roman, I give you permission," 

"Really?" Roman asked. 

Thomas nodded. "Really. I just want to sleep at some point tonight," 

"Woo! Okay," Roman cheered. "Alright let me just…" 

Roman snapped and then they all appeared in the mind palace, which was currently blank. 

"One second…" Roman shut his eyes and then they all seemed to be back in Thomas' apartment.

"This… is just my apartment," Thomas said.

"Or is it?" Roman smirked.

"Wait, we're in the mind palace right now?" Thomas asked, looking around in awe at "his apartment" which looked exactly the same, but somehow slightly brighter.

Roman looked around, proud of his work. "Yup," 

"Wow, Roman, I'm so impressed," Deceit said, and he too was looking around but with less wonder and more judgment. 

Roman was touched by this. "Thank you," 

"Can we just get this over with," Virgil snapped, rubbing his temples. "I'm getting a migraine," 

"Alright if you insist," Roman sighed and shut his eyes. He then snapped his fingers and, it happened. 

At first, everyone was disoriented, but then it really set in.

Everyone was in the same places, but they had all switched roles, as well as colors. 

"Wow, I love this," Virgil said and was startled by his own voice, slapping his hand over his mouth. That wasn't his voice that was… Deceits. His hoodie was now covered in yellow patches rather than his usual purple, but he was glad he at least didn't change clothes. 

"Okay so, Virgil is now, Deceit. Cool," Thomas said, nervously eyeing Virgil who looked as if he was going to vomit. 

"Oh, oh no…" Logan said dramatically, looking at his shirt. "I knew it. I knew you would do this," 

It was red, which meant he had swapped with Roman.

Roman sighed. "Don't look so disappointed, Logan. This exercise will be highly effective in helping us better understand each other. You may as well try to participate with an open mind,"  

Thomas eyed them. "You guys sound like each other and I don't know why, but I wasn't expecting that," 

Roman all the sudden had glasses, and Logan's had disappeared. "Yes, well, we have swapped traits and it seems clear to me now that our traits have a lot to do with our mannerisms and speech patterns," 

"You stole my glasses you heathen!" Logan shouted, ignoring Roman’s previous statement.

“Indeed,” Roman said. “Wait a minute…”

Logan frowned dramatically. “I do not enjoy this one bit Roman, I am already cranky! Change me back!”

Roman adjusted his glasses as Logan would. “No, I don’t think I will,”

“I totally don’t want to change back,” Virgil whispered quietly, his tempest tongue in full effect.

Remus pouted, his clothes now blue instead of their usual green. “C’ mon Roman, it’s not very nice to make Logan and Virgil do this if they don’t want to,” 

“Oh no… oh- not-” Thomas realized Remus had switched with Patton which meant…

Patton sighed, knowing what Thomas was thinking. “Oh yes! I mean definitely no but also yes,” 

“Patton? How do you feel?” Thomas asked nervously, which caused Virgil to flip his hood over his head.

“Like a buttcheek on a stick,” Patton said and then he too covered his mouth. 

“Oh, that is not ideal,” Roman commented, eyeing Patton cautiously.

Logan scoffed. “Not ideal? None of this is ideal Roman!” 

“It’s not only my fault. Thomas gave me the go-ahead,” Roman reminded.

“Yeah uh, what the hell, Thomas?” Logan yelled. “How dare you do this to me! It’s not fair!”

Thomas backed up. “You guys are the ones keeping me up so if you could just learn whatever lesson you are supposed to be learning from this we can all go back to normal and I can go to sleep,”

“If Roman weren’t such a b*tch we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Logan defended himself, to which Roman just rolled his eyes.

“Look at you, Logan. You are usually so eloquent but now you cannot even form a good insult. It’s pathetic,” Roman’s words were full of malice and Logan’s eyes went big.

“This is why I didn’t want to do this! I have to be-”

“Taken seriously. We know! Now, we don’t care,” Roman stated. “You have proven time and time again that you are simply incompetent at your job, so maybe I should do both of our jobs,”

“That is not… at all the resolution you guys should be having right now,” Thomas commented, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. “Play nice, please,”

“Play nice? Play nice? Did you hear what he just said to me?” Logan was upset, and the louder he got the more he sounded like Roman, which was a thing he had yet to notice.

“I don’t like this,” Deceit said, finally speaking. His voice was much lower and more similar to Virgil’s tone.

“Deceit! You’re here! And you’re-”

“Anxiety and I have no idea how Virgil does this. I’m not having a good time,” Deceit informed, fixing his hair to cover his face. 

“Well, I’m sure it’s not all bad,” Remus tried to reassure Virgil, as Patton would. “It must have its moments,”

“Oh yeah, it’s fantastic,” Virgil whispered again, still echoing. He now had Deceit’s cape instead of his hoodie, and his hoodie had appeared on Deceit instead.

“Well, maybe now you understand why it’s not okay to just drop into Virgil’s room whenever you feel like it,” Thomas suggested, to which Deceit nodded.

“Yeah if any of you randomly dropped into my room right now I would probably scream so uh, sorry, Virgil,” Deceit apologized to which Virgil just groaned.

“You aren’t talking much, Patton,” Remus said and Patton just looked down.

“I would rather not,” Patton murmured from underneath his hand. 

Remus shrugged. “Well, now you know how I feel,” 

“How you feel?” Thomas repeated.

“You always say the first thing that pops into your head,” Logan agreed.

Remus sighed. “Yeah because I can’t control it. Being quiet is like…”

“Pulling out your own teeth with a pair of needle-nose pliers,” Patton said. “It hurts,” Then his outfit shifted to be more like Remus’ and Remus’ started changing too.

“Exactly,” Remus nodded.

“I had no idea, Remus…” Roman said, dropping for a moment to feel a bit of guilt for how he had treated him. 

“It’s not like you ever asked,” Remus replied, pouting. 

“I’m not going to come over there and fight you if you don’t turn us back,” Virgil yelled at Roman. 

The more time they spent in each other's roles the more they were changing, and despite the fact that he was technically Deceit now, this was still just the mind palace, and he was still just anxiety, so all of this was affecting him… which meant it was affecting Thomas.

“Well, I am glad,” Roman said flatly and Virgil just wanted to rip his hair out.

“I really… want to stay like this forever!” Virgil yelled again, his face was full of rage and it did not match his words.

“Good, maybe you will,” Roman said and everyone stopped. Roman was not willing to give this up, he had a point to prove but why? No one was really sure, and they were all worried, but Logan was worried most. “You can’t be serious,” He said, but he knew there was a big chance he wasn’t joking. Especially considering he couldn’t really “joke” right now.

Roman remained stoic. “I am serious. I have the upper hand, here. None of you know how to end daydream mode except me, and I certainly will not divulge that information,”

“Why not?!” Logan screamed, and Virgil covered his ears, then noticed that Deceit did the same.

“Too loud, dude,” Deceit said, and Virgil looked offended. “That’s not my thing…”

“Because clearly none of you deserve your roles, and neither do I,” Roman was taking this all wrong, and Thomas was unsure how to fix it. “So, we may as well stay this way,”

Virgil was reaching his limit, still echoing fully. “Thomas isn’t anxious right now, and we definitely don’t need to find a way to stop this,”

“Oh… yeah. I didn’t even notice,” Thomas said, shaking. “Patton, Logan… You guys are creativity right now… you got any ideas on how to get us out of here?” He asked, which made Logan and Patton meet eyes.

Roman rolled his eyes. “Nice try but the mind palace won’t listen-”

Then Logan got an idea. “Patton? Snap at the same time as me on 3,” Logan instructed.

“Okay,” Patton replied, quietly.

“I wouldn’t do that-” Roman tried but it was no use.

“1...2...3!” Logan shouted and the two snapped at the same time, causing them to rise back up into Thomas’ real apartment in a big flash of light.

“Have we all returned back to normal?” Logan wondered, and began feeling around for his glasses, then when he found them he practically jumped from joy. Which caused the others to stare at him. “Ahem… pardon my outburst. Just glad to be back to my old self again,”

“It was really cute, Logan!” Patton squealed. 

Virgil sighed in relief, no longer echoing. “That was... horrible,”

“I loved it, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Deceit said.

“Well, I know that’s a lie,” Thomas said, and Virgil frowned. “It isn’t under his control half the time. I couldn’t tell the truth no matter how much I wanted to,” 

“It seems like that’s the case for Deceit and Remus, neither of them can really control how they talk,” Roman said, empathizing with the two a bit. 

Remus laughed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I like my job! It’s the tits!” 

Patton grimaced. “I’m sure it’s not… a…”

“A tit? Two tits?” Remus asked. “It’s more like five or six tits, sextupli-tits!” 

“Oh, a pun, that’s nice,” Patton was trying, and he lent a warm smile to Remus, who smiled back.

“You’re not half bad yourself, Daddy,” Remus replied with a wink before sinking down, and Patton waved goodbye to him. 

“I don’t want to leave too, I’m having a great time,” Deceit began sinking out.

“Hey! No more going in my room!” Virgil yelled, making sure Deceit was clear on that. 

“Alright. Fine,” Deceit conceded, and finally went back to wherever he came from.

“Roman… do you have anything to say to us?” Thomas asked, and Roman crossed his arms. 

“Nope,” Roman insisted. “I did nothing wrong,”

“You can’t really think that…” Virgil said and looked at him. “Can you?”

Roman shook his head. “Logan deserved it for not allowing me more room to express myself. It isn’t fair that in order for Thomas to have a productive lifestyle in his mind, he must abandon creativity. Creativity is a big part of who Thomas is! Without me- us… he wouldn’t be the Thomas we know and love,”

“I suppose you’re right, I’m sorry, Roman,” Logan said, genuinely feeling bad. Which was new for him.

“Did… did you just apologize… to me?” Roman asked, dumbfounded.

Logan fixed his tie. “I did indeed. Regardless of how you handled it, I wasn’t being fair to you and I ignored how you feel. For that, I am sorry,” 

“This is so cute! We’re all getting along!” Patton cheered.

Virgil rolled his eyes with a smirk before sinking out. “Yeah… I’m gonna go back to my room now and think up more ways to stop Thomas from going outside, later,” 

“What a productive evening! It’s already 4:30!” Patton exclaimed and sunk out.

“Yeah… that’s what night time is for… not sleeping,” Thomas commented sarcastically.

“Go to bed, Thomas,” Logan said, then sunk out.

“Yes, do try to get some rest… and Thomas?” Roman began.

“Yeah, Roman?” Thomas replied.

“I’m sorry,” Roman said, with a sad smile.

Thomas smiled. “It’s.. alright Roman. It all worked out… I think,”

“Me too,” Roman said before finally sinking out, leaving Thomas to go and get some use of was left of the night. 

Bonus, End Card!

Remus rose up in Virgil’s room. “Virgil! Where are you hiding the sex dungeon!”

Virgil hissed. “There is no dungeon, there’s nothing kinky... just lots of cobwebs!” He yelled. “Get out!”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Remus asked and looked around for Deceit.

“I’m not! He would be here if I were and you know it,” Virgil reminded.

Remus frowned from disappointment “Alright… fine, but if you’re holding out on me-”

Virgil scoffed. “I’m not. Goodbye, Remus,” He then waved sassily signaling the creative side to leave.

Remus smirked and waved back as he sunk down. “Fair well, Virgil. See you soon,” 

Authors note: I know Patton didn’t say a whole lot in Remus’ role but I found that hard to write! Apologies!

[batskulldrag]

Phoenix by Fallout Boy

A human Au where Patton and Logan adopt Patton’s estranged nephew.

trigger warnings for abuse, PTSD and anxiety 

included are mentioned brotherly creatwins, sympathetic deceit and no OC. any other character is either another youtuber, one of Thomas’s friends or a character from 2017′s Dream Daddy. 

Word count is obscene, I'll post weekly chapters

Chapter one: The Things We Lost in The Fire by Bastille

               Patton brooded into the house and scanning the living room only to find it empty, made a beeline for his and Logan’s bedroom. Fate had one nice thing in store for him because Logan was there silently grading papers at his desk. Before giving his husband a chance to comment on his sudden appearance Patton dropped his head onto Logan’s shoulder. Logan automatically reached up a hand to stroke Patton’s ash blond hair.

               “Bad day I assume?” Logan asked as soothingly as he could muster.

               Rather than answer Patton sank to the ground and flopped his head down on Logan’s lap.

               “That bad?” Logan continued to pet his hair.

               “Have you seen the news?” Patton mumbled, his voice blocked with hands and defeat.

               “No, I haven’t.” Logan was hesitant and let on concern. “What happened?”

               “My nasty, no account bully of a brother is back in town and trying to run for local office.”  Patton snorted. “And he’s lying about our family.”

               Logan’s eyes narrowed, unimaginative as he was, he saw a flood of potential falsehoods that could earn anyone a landslide of pity votes.

               “What does that beast have to say for himself?”

                Patton let out a sound that was almost a sob.

               “You don’t have to tell me, I’m sure I could look it up.” Logan sighed, still stroking Patton’s head. “And more importantly, I’m sure we can debunk whatever he has to say.”

               “The implications will still be there, even if they’re wrong. And people might say that we’re the ones who are lying.” Patton slid more of his body onto Lagan’s lap.

               “I know.”

               “He’s saying that our mom was a homophobe, and that she made him …” Patton tilted his head away and coughed. “Sleep with a girl to ‘cure him’ or something. That’s not fair. He was the homophobe.”

               “That’s his explanation for his son?”

               “And his campaign on how much he cares about other sexualities.” Patton rolled his eyes.

               “Patton, why don’t you go ahead and post our senior prom pictures on Sharebook?” Logan said gently, but with a sinister smile that his companion couldn’t see.

               “I don’t follow.” Patton met Logan’s eyes.

               “Your mother was the one who took most of those pictures. Payton isn’t that much older than you; how does he intend to explain that change in opinion?”

               “Logan you’re a genius!” Patton threw his arms around him.

               “I know.” The other smiled.

#                             #                             #

               Logan remembered prom night vividly, more vividly than graduation in fact. All it took to remember every detail was just a brief look over Patton’s shoulder at their first picture to bring it all back. Patton’s braces that he had haphazardly tried to paint blue by eating nontoxic paint, granting him blue teeth and colorless braces. It didn’t faze him though. He was still beaming with his entire being. A nerd in a tan suite with stained teeth. No one could touch him.

               And of course, Logan himself, who hadn’t changed much appearance wise since high school. Smiling reluctantly as Patton stretched an arm around his shoulder as they both stood in front of the open door.

               “Logan, sweetheart you look so stiff try to relax.” Patton’s mother teased.

               “Maybe I should move my arm.” Patton said quickly as he pulled his arm away.

               “Yeah Pat.” Roman chimed in from behind them. “Leave room for Jesus.”

               Roman was one to talk, he all but had his date sitting in his lap on the ride over. They both turned to see him strutting up the driveway. At the time his hair was dyed red, which made it look like his head was on fire. Did that shake him? No. He proudly wore red hair, a white tuxedo and a matching rose in his buttonhole. Elton John would have called it overkill.

               “You forgot this calculator watch.” Roman announced holding out a corsage of forget-me-nots and baby’s breath.

               “Oh, Logan you got me flowers!” Patton squeaked, clasping his hands together and pressing them to his chin.

               “Logan, is your dad single?” Patton’s mom interjected again.

               Logan felt himself blush and looked out the door for an escape.

               “No, he’s still married to my mom. Sorry.” He responded flatly, hoping they would just think he didn’t get the joke.

               “Oh, a little baby person!” Roman suddenly exclaimed as he darted inside, heading directly for the pram in the middle of the living room.

               “Careful not to wake him up.” Patton called to him.

               “Why’s he out here?” Roman whispered, looking up from the baby.

               “He was a little fussy, so I brought him down here where it was cooler.” Ms. Foster explained.

               “I thought Payton was here taking care of Virgil.” Logan added. “After all he is his father.”

               “Payt’s up in his room studying for his LSATs, besides Virgil’s only a few months old. He doesn’t have it in him to be troublesome yet.” She leaned over the pram and cooed. “Unlike his daddy who cut five teeth at once and his uncle who bit everything.”

               Both Roman and Logan laughed at this while Patton just stood there quietly.

               “It wasn’t that bad.” Patton mumbled.

               “Yes, it was, that crib we’re using, you chewed one of the legs off. And I swear Payton started sprinting before he could even walk. So, I had to be on constant look out for him, lest I step on and kill my own baby.”

               “We should go.” Patton pointed towards the door in an effort to escape.

               “Wait, Logan, you need to put the corsage on Patton.” Roman pointed at the pair of them.

               “Why?” Logan asked blankly.

               “Tradition.” Roman stood tall and crossed his arms.

               “Fine.” Logan tilted his head back and sighed.

               Patton’s mother got a picture of the moment. The rest of the evening was horrible. The car that they all shared broke down and they had to walk to the gym. They showed up an hour late and covered in sweat and grease. Then a few morons threw punch on both of them during the slow dance. The lights constantly flickered as if they were going to go off, giving him a migraine. And finally, two people backed him into a corner and tormented him until he had an episode. Which everyone thought was hilarious, so they laughed while ‘the retard’, as he was known, threw a tantrum in the corner.

That was when Patton showed how amazing he really was. He wielded guilt like a weapon and tore everyone down to below sea level.  He threatened to tell peoples parents, he swore to treat them exactly the way they had treated Logan. He labeled each and every one of them a sociopath and declared that he would see to it that they all went to hell. After Patton’s rant and Logan’s episode Patton just took him outside and they spent the rest of the night there.

               That had been the moment when Logan fell in love with that boy. Covered in sweat and punch and coming off the heels of a tantrum he fell in love with Patton. And he knew Patton loved him, come what may. Graduation didn’t hold a candle to that.

                                                                               #             #             #

               “Are you somewhere fun?” Patton’s voice cracked through the memory.

               “Yes.” Logan looked back over to Patton. “I’m here.”

               Patton beamed back at him and went back to his pictures. There were a handful of their graduation, several of Patton once he finally got his braces off. And many different pictures of Patton feeding Virgil smashed chocolate cake on his first birthday. Patton’s demeanor dropped and he sighed heavily. None of them had seen Virgil since he was a baby.

               “I hope he’s ok.” Patton thought out loud.

               “I’m sure he is.” Logan lied, taking Patton’s hand in his.

                                                                               #             #             #

               I’ll kill him. Payton thought viciously as yet another reporter asked him the same question.

               “Mr. Foster, how do you explain the inconsistencies between your description of events and the pictures your brother posted online yesterday?”

               “Patton must have come out after mother passed away.” Payton said smoothly. “And after seeing what she did to me, who can blame him?”

               They seemed to accept that. Good. He scoffed under his breath; they were all too lazy to investigate anything, so they just took everything at face value.

               “But Mr. Foster,” A familiar voice that didn’t belong to a reporter chimed in. “An examination of these pictures also shows her at Patton’s high school graduation, which took place after prom. Is your mother a ghost?”

               Payton looked across the crowd and saw the instigator. A man of moderate height and muscular build wearing a fedora with a press card in the band. To match that he also wore a brown three-piece suit and glasses of the same color. He didn’t even look like he was from this time era.

               “You cannot prove that prom preceded graduation.” Payton argued, knowing that it was a horrible lie. “And you cannot prove that it is our mother in the picture with him.”

               “Ok. But I can.” The time traveler challenged. “Other pictures of your mom would prove that she is indeed pictured in Patton’s graduation, with his boyfriend. And high school functions such as prom always proceed graduation. It’s senior prom, not post-graduation prom. Also! Patton has blue teeth in the prom pictures, but the blue has faded off in the graduation pictures.”

               Many of the reporters murmured and turned to the stranger.

               “Ok Roman,” Payton leaned against his podium. “Did someone put you up to this or are you on your own?”

               “I’m on my own. And I stand alone in the halls of people who look things up. These are dark days indeed.”

               “Pay no attention to that drama queen back there please.” Payton sneered. “He’s friends with my brother.”

               “So now I have become your enemy because I tell you the truth?” Roman said loudly, pressing one hand to his heart.

               “Isn’t that from the bible?”

               “Have you read the bible?”

               A hushed murmur echoed through the crowd. When did this become a roast off?

               “Roman, leave before I call security.”

               “This is a public gathering; you can’t throw me out.”

               Much to Roman’s dismay and his own delight he indeed could throw him out. But the damage had been done, everyone’s questions now reflected what Roman had pointed out. And worse still several of these dullards had now been bitten by the research bug. They may start thinking for themselves against all odds.

               Speaking of things that thought without permission Virgil had beaten him home that afternoon. His gangly, yet somehow short form was slumped on the couch staring at his phone. His school uniform was in disarray around him. He had his blazer on his lap like a blanket, his tie hung over his shoulders and his shirt unbuttoned almost to his waste and he had added an old hoodie that was probably decomposing by now. Why didn’t the bastard just go ahead and get naked? What a slob.

And, if he were to be honest, he thought Virgil was ugly. Most teenagers are and his son reflected that. Virgil had scattered acne and freckles on a pasty white face that he had the decency to cover up with makeup, hollow eyes, violet in color making him look every bit the mutant he was, and black hair that he kept in a stupid fashion. Who the hell even had bangs anymore?

               “Sit up straight, you look like a corpse.” Payton snapped at the figure.

               “Dead bodies are cool.” Virgil retorted sitting up proper.

               “Don’t test me you bastard, I’ve had a very hard day.” He pointed to the defiant brat. “And I will not be challenged by a teenager who still wets the bed.”

               Virgil backed down but shot him one last glare.

               “I haven’t done that in a month.” He mumbled.

               “And I haven’t done that since I was four. You’re nine years late.”

               Virgil slumped his shoulders and pulled his hood up to conceal the fact that his ears were turning red.

               Good. You stay where you belong. Payton thought coldly.

               “I told you to sit up straight.” He said tauntingly.

               Virgil stood up and walked to the stairs.

               “Why doesn’t daddy love me?” He mocked Virgil as he walked. “I wonder.”

               Virgil stormed up the stairs and into his room. He would have punctuated this tantrum by slamming the door. But his room didn’t have one.

                                                                               #             #             #

               “Have you seen the news?” Roman yelled, bursting into the room and slamming the door open.

               “Roman, how many times do I have to tell you not to slam the door?” Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

               “What’s up Roman?” Patton asked tilting his head to the side.

               “They’re investigating your brother for mishandling campaign funds, and they found out that he left that law firm he worked for under suspicion of tampering with evidence. And something about hiding information or something.” Roman monologued.

               “If he was a lawyer then he would be required to share any evidence he obtained with the opposing counsel, even if it hurt his own case. It was started after the Brady vs Maryland case, during which-”  

               “Logan, not now.” Patton squeezed his shoulder gently. “Is that all, Roman, is Virgil ok?”

               “I – I don’t know. He’s just kinda in the background of all this.” Roman’s posture dropped. “What if we ruined his life!?”

               “Oh gosh, if Payton gets sent to prison it’ll be all my fault!” Patton jumped off the couch in terror. “I’m a horrible brother! I’m a horrible uncle! I’m a horrible person! I ruined his life in three days!”

               “We’re going straight to hell!” Roman pulled on his jacket as if he were trying to pull himself together.

               “No, stop. Both of you.” Logan stood up to reason with them at eye level. “No one’s going to hell, or prison … well I can guarantee no one’s going to hell.”

               “What have I done!?” Patton dropped to the floor and curled into a ball. “I’m a horrible person!”

               “Patton. If your brother is guilty of what they accuse him of, then he only has himself to blame for being in trouble. All you did was innocently post a few things on Sharebook to set the record straight.”

               “Roman,” He continued. “What you did was stupid, but I don’t think it caused anything but a few jokes around the water cooler.”

               A loud gasp came from the floor that led the other two to believe that Patton was crying.

               “I can’t do this. The guilt is killing me!”

               “You didn’t do anything! Payton is in trouble with the law because he broke it. That has nothing to do with us!” Logan objected.

               “But the pictures.” He looked up tearfully.

               “Only served to prove that your mother was not a homophobe.”

               “And Roman?”

               “Is an idiot.”

               “Hey!” Roman protested.

               “But he also had nothing to do with this.”

               “What about Virgil?” Roman asked softly from the doorway.

               No one knew what to say.

                                                                               #             #             #

               It had been five days since Patton’s idiotic meddling on Sharebook, and the worst part was that Payton couldn’t figure out if it was intentional or not. His younger brother never could have thought of something like this. But he did have that drama queen, and that retard he married. One of them might have done this.

               “Dad, can we talk?” Virgil interrupted him, typical.

               “What could you possibly want?” He glared up from his work.

               Virgil was still in his pajamas, wearing no makeup and looking like a member of the living dead. Before speaking he turned away and coughed violently.

               “Are you sick again!?” Payton growled. “I swear if I let you lose in the wild, you’d be dead in an instant. I don’t know what’s keeping you alive; it’s certainly not a higher purpose. There, now we’ve talked. And I’m worse off for it. Now scram.”

               “Is all the stuff on the news true?” Virgil rasped.

               “I recall telling you to go away…”

               “Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll just have to decide for myself.”

               “Knowing you, you’ll side with the masses. Keeps people from having to think. You’d like that.”

               “Why are you teeing off on me!? All I asked for was a yes or no answer.”

               “That’s a lot of back bone for somebody who hasn’t shown me his final report card yet.” He didn’t even look up. “We had to do summer school last year and they still held you back. If either of those things happen this year… well no point in speculating over things that won’t happen.”

               That was the thread he needed to pull evidently. Virgil retreated.

               Before going to his room Virgil stumbled into the bathroom and threw up. His heart was beating its way out of his chest, the room was spinning.

               Spinning

                               Spinning

                                               S

                                                   P

                                                      I

                                                         N

                                                               N

                                                                   I

                                                                               N

                                                                                   G

He fell to the floor, arms and legs both feeling like static.

No! not another one! He dizzily protested, forcing in several ragged breaths just have air.

Hell only knows how long he was laying on the bathroom floor before he calmed himself down. But he somehow managed and dragged himself back to his room. It wasn’t long before he passed out on his bed.

#             #             #

               It’s now been nearly two weeks since everything started. Virgil hasn’t gotten over whatever he caught this time. But his dad hasn’t been home too much lately, so there was still solaced to be found. He lay in bed, sweating from fever and almost let himself dare to have hope. His dad may end up in prison before the summer was over. Maybe he could testify. He could tell if his dad was in prison, hell he’d scream it from the rooftops if his dad wasn’t around to provide consequences.

                                                                               #             #             #

               Payton set the smoke detector down on a table in the hallway and looked in Virgil’s room. Virgil was passed out in his bed, no doubt out of his mind on cold medicine and looking pale and tragic. He slid into the room and stood over him.

               “Poor Virgil.” He scoffed, wiping his greasy hair off his sweat covered forehead. “I really tried to want you. Hell, I wanted to want you. It just didn’t work out that way.”

               Virgil coughed lightly in his sleep and turned over uneasily. Everything that kid did was uneasy. Payton picked up the half full bottle of medicine on the nightstand and stared into it apathetically.

               Virgil jolted bolt upright and coughed violently. Payton quietly watched him fight for air.

               “Why are you in here?” Virgil panted, already trembling with fear.

               “It’s alright.” Payton said softly, placing the back of his hand on Virgil’s forehead. “I’m just checking on you.”

               “Why?” Virgil recoiled from his hand.

               “You’re sick, aren’t you?” Payton cupped Virgil’s face in his hands. “I just wanted to make sure you were ok before I left.”

               Virgil settled into his hands and stared up at him. Hope dotted itself in his unnatural eyes. He was helpless to resist temptation. Sucker.

               “Alright. I have a meeting tonight.” Payton ran his hand through Virgil’s hair. “But tomorrow I’m taking you to the doctor.”

               “Why?” Virgil jolted back. His eyes lit with terror.

               “No, I’m taking you to get this sickness checked out.” Payton purred. “You know I’d never hurt you for no reason.”

               “No?” He squeaked.

               “Of course not. Have I ever hurt you when you haven’t done anything?”

               “No?” Virgil’s breathing sped up.

               “Of course not. Now drink your medicine and try to get some sleep.”

               With quivering hands Virgil took the bottle from him and drank it obediently.

               “There’s a good boy.” Payton smiled.

               As a finishing move Payton tucked Virgil in before leaving. Virgil shivered the entire time. Payton couldn’t tell if he was excited to have the attention of if he was just that terrified. It didn’t really matter.

               Either way, Payton had the little parasite right where he wanted him. And today that meant he was right here in bed, sound asleep. Dead to the world.

               Payton stopped in his study and dropped the rug over the lamp’s newly frayed cord. He ‘accidentally’ left the lamp on before he left. As far as anyone would ask.

                                                                               #             #             #

Roman was feeling high on life. He was on his way home from an excellent performance of The Lion King in which he, being one of the only people who could sing and dance and sit through the makeup process to audition, had played Mufasa one night and Scar the next. Both were amazing parts. Just think two on stage deaths, and a solo on villain nights. And who doesn’t love a villain?

               To cap off this evening he had become quite close with the actor playing Timonen, who was especially charming. Yes, things were lovely. He nearly lost control of his motorcycle at the thought. As he steadied himself back, he checked the clock in the center, it was very nearly midnight.

               “Well, I’m sure the love birds are done with their date night by now.” He said out loud, nearly drowned out by his engine.

               Roman nodded to himself and looked for a driveway to turn around in. Preferably one where nobody was home to bother with his bike. He was a gentleman after all. Roman pulled into an empty driveway and made a U-turn back towards the road.

               But something leaked into his helmet and stopped Roman in his tracks. It was the unmistakable smell of smoke. He dropped his bike and whipped around to see the house behind him glowing with flames and billowing thick black smoke. Without a second thought he tossed his helmet to the ground and called for help.

               The house itself was a two-story building that was fairly isolated from neighbors. And there wasn’t another soul outside, so no one had seen the fire yet. While Roman was giving the address the windows in the bottom floor exploded, punctuated by the sound of sirens in the distance. It looked like everything would be ok… luckily, no one was home.

               No! He was wrong! It’s not ok! The glow of the fire had illuminated the figure of someone on the second floor trying to break the window. The room they were in was already on fire. Not having time for caution, Roman bounded towards the house. He could hear the firefighters behind him yelling for him to stop as they pulled up, but he had already leapt onto the landing by the time the words sank in. He could jump surprisingly high; as a dancer he had the legs for it. He pulled himself up the gutter, wrapped his jacket over his fist and with one blow he shattered the window and the person jumped out, coughing up both lungs.

               Both he and the sole survivor were blown back by a gust of hot wind. It was like Satan had roared at them. Obviously dizzy from inhaling so much smoke the survivor, who looked no more than twelve fell back when Satan roared and slid down the roof. Roman leapt for him and saw the kid grab hold of the same gutter, and lose his hold falling to the ground feet first. Roman jumped down after him and scoped him up gently, he was still breathing. But not very strongly. He ran the kid to the nearest ambulance.

                                                                               #             #             #

               ‘F’ is for friends who do stuff together…

               Patton groggily pulled his phone off the nightstand. Why was Roman calling at one in the morning?

               “Ehlo?” He mumbled into the receiver.

               “Hey friendo …” Roman’s voice was hesitant. “Can you come get me from the hospital? I know it’s late, but I’ve had a night.”

               “Hold that thought kiddo.” Patton said calmly, before turning to Logan. “Logan! Roman is in the hospital! My friends are being punished for my sins!” He panicked.

               “We’re married.” Logan mumbled, not even half awake.

               “We’ll be right down to get you honey.” Patton faked a cool demeanor over the phone.

               “I heard you yelling. And, I should point out that I’m not hurt.”

                                                                               #             #             #

               “Roman what happened?!” Patton rushed over to him.

               “Well, there was a fire…” Roman began.

               “At the theater!? Was anybody hurt?! Did Remus start the fire!? Is he back so soon!?”

               Patton looked down and saw that Roman’s right hand in a cast.

               “You are too hurt! Why did you lie to me!?”

               Logan stepped up and pulled Patton back by the shoulder.

               “Everything’s going to be ok Patton. If Roman was badly hurt, they wouldn’t let him leave just yet.” He said calmly. “Now let’s just let him tell the story.”

               “Ok.” Patton mumbled, burying his face in Logan’s shoulder.

               “Ok, on my way home I encountered a house on fire. So, I called the authorities. Then I saw that there was someone trapped upstairs. So, I jumped onto the landing and broke the window with my fist.” Roman explained slowly and without any of his normal flare.

               “Why would you do that? You could have been killed?” Logan asked, flustered at Roman’s general lack of caution.

               “There was someone in there! A little kid trapped in a fire! Wouldn’t you have?”

               “If emergency services hadn’t yet arrived and there was no time to wait, I suppose I would. Had such services arrived?”

               “…” Roman looked down. “Yes.”

               “Are you ok?” Patton asked softly.

               “Yes, it’s just a few cuts. And apparently, I punched the window wrong and broke my wrist. I don’t think I’ll be able to do the matinee tomorrow. I’ll call Robert to pick up my bike.”

               “Is the kid?”

               “They haven’t told me how he is. Apparently only family gets to know the details.” He rolled his eyes.

               “Hippa laws.” Logan added. “Standard doctor/patient confidentiality to protect the privacy of the patient…”

               “Don’t you start.” Roman pointed at him angrily. “All they told me was that he’d be fine.”

               “Did the police take your statement?”

               “Yeah. An unfortunate number of officers are familiar with me. And they almost exclusively know me as the guy with the crazy twin.”

               “Speaking of brothers…” Patton interrupted almost as if he were in a trance.

               The other two turned in unison to see what Patton was staring at so intently. And speak of the Devil there was Payton.

[spicyfloaty]

Give & Take | Chapter 4

pairing: kacchako

genre: slowburn/fluff

words: 2.4k

summary: Ochako's grades are slipping. Bakugo is dangerously nearing suspension, or worse, expulsion. A certain twist of fate pairs them together for tutoring sessions. He teaches her math. She keeps him from getting suspended. A simple exchange, but what if this only brings them closer than necessary?

header credits: @alexbenedetto

[READ ON AO3]

Chapter Three

Chapter Four: Bakugo’s Fingers

If you told Ochako that her first tutoring session with Bakugo Katsuki was going to be as dead silent as it was right now, she would have laughed and thought you were crazy. A scenario she had been playing over and over again in her head consisted of flipped tables, burning paper, and repetitive yelling. She had expected all of these and more, but Bakugo just loved to prove people wrong, didn't he? 

She could have heard the tiny footsteps of an ant, if anything, she bets that she could have counted its breaths in this deafening silence. In all honesty, she’d much rather have Bakugo say absolutely anything if it meant that he would at least talk and give her something to work with. She felt as though she had been having a discussion with a brick wall for the past 20 minutes, given that the brick wall plopped himself on the other side of the room, chin cupped in one hand, looking out a window completely uninterested.

Ochako looks down at the bulk of text on her book and begins to read it out loud. She modulates her voice just right, properly enunciating each term to give off an air of confidence around her even though in reality, her head could hardly keep up with what she was saying, “So basically this means that I should...factor it out?” She asks.

The air of confidence she had while reading almost instantly diffuses after trying to make sense out of what she just read using her own words. She hated the way she sounded so unsure with every concept but asking these kinds of questions out loud was the only way she could get some kind of affirmation that Bakugo was still in the same room as her.

He grunts, not even bothering to look at her. This sound usually meant that she got it right...or wrong, she wasn’t sure, she still had a ways to go in decoding this new language Bakugo had introduced her, he was really fluent in I don’t care. Ochako resists the urge to ask him if he was even listening to her because if there was anything she would dislike more than the painstaking silence, it would be a screaming match with Bakugo. Then again, at least he’d have to say something if that were the case. 

She sighs, then proceeds to read the next few paragraphs. The tone of confidence in her voice falters as each topic she comes across becomes exceedingly harder to comprehend, “This means um,” she quickly rereads the last portion to make sure she has it right, “I factor it again?” Ochako looks up at him hoping for some kind of reaction this time. Unfortunately, the view from that window was still ten times more interesting to him compared to this conversation, if you could even call it that.

“No.” Bakugo says flatly. She waits for an explanation that should usually follow that kind of response, but to nobody’s surprise, it never comes. Ochako almost throws her hands up in frustration, but instead, she just rests her forehead on the palms of her hands. She knew that massaging her temples won’t resolve the steady decline of her patience, but she goes ahead and does it anyways. This way, the not-so-proper things she’d like to say to him right now, bouncing off the walls of her mind, won’t cause an unwanted migraine.

She lifts her head to sneak a glance at the blonde mess that was the back of Bakugo’s head, what goes on in that mind of his, Ochako will never know. She thinks back to Aizawa discussing his situation and how these sessions were quite literally the only chance he has of not being suspended, or if worse comes to worst, expelled. Bakugo’s behavior so far surely wasn’t that of someone who cared about any of that, but one thing’s for sure, he’s here, which meant that he did care. Well, at least to some degree.

Bakugo might think that all he had to do was show up for this agreement of theirs to be fair game, but Ochako couldn’t just let herself be used as his one-way ticket out of trouble when she’s sitting here wasting her time not learning anything.

“Bakugo,” she starts, and for the first time, he actually looks at her, but only for him to glare at her as if saying his name, let alone, speaking to him directly were a mortal sin. Ochako feels herself shrink under the intensity of his gaze, but she doesn’t back down. She wanted his attention, she’s got it right now.

“I don’t think this is working.” she says this in the gentlest way she could possibly put it, her heart rate races as though she was getting ready to poke a sleeping dragon with a wooden stick. One might say that she already did.

“What?” Bakugo snarls. Oh, the dragon was definitely awake now.

Ochako chooses her next words carefully, but she just stumbles over them with nonexistent grace, “I um, I don’t think I can learn just by,” she struggles to find the words to describe the ineffective mess they were doing, “this.” Great job, Ochako.

Bakugo’s eyebrows knit together so closely she’s surprised they don’t start knitting sweaters, “And why the hell not?”

Ochako decides that she’s gonna have to be more specific if she wants to get her point across, even if it means increasing her chances of getting barbequed by flaming hot dragon breath, “It’s almost been an hour and you haven’t said anything to help me understand any of this yet.”

She tries to cushion the slight harshness of her words with a soft expression, but this doesn’t stop Bakugo from narrowing his eyes into slits. He might as well have had trails of smoke fuming from his nostrils judging by the look of disgust on his face, “I don’t know what gave you the idea to talk to me like that, but you shouldn’t”

The point must have missed Bakugo’s head and flown straight out the window along with the rest of the restraint Ochako had been using up until this very second, “You can’t just expect me to not say anything when you’re supposed to be helping me with this,” she dares rival his intense stare with her own, “and I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’re not.”

Bakugo grimaces, his scowl sinking deeper into his face as he shifts his whole body in his desk to fully face her, “Listen, round face, I dont know know what the fuck your problem is, but things were going just fine before you chose to complain about it.”

“Fine?” She almost laughs, “You think me talking to myself is fine?” Ochako doesn’t normally raise her voice to anyone, she had always considered herself to be someone who could stay calm and collected in any given situation no matter how stressful it was, but there’s something about him that makes her blood boil to temperatures that would make Endeavor jealous.

“Who says I have to say anything for you to learn something?”

Ochako wasn’t proud of it. Maybe it was all the stress and pent up frustration from her job, her studies, hell, maybe both, that finally snapped the last thread of patience keeping her composed and rational, “Ugh! Why do you have to be so difficult?”

She sends her eraser flying towards Bakugo, but without even flinching, Bakugo catches it before it hits his face, the corner of his mouth lifts to give her a shit eating grin, “Wanna try that again, round face?” He tosses the piece of rubber back and she catches it just in time before it reaches the floor.

Ochako takes a mental step back to close her eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down before they spend the rest of the hour bickering, and before she runs out of stationery as ammunition, “Don’t you think it would be best if you actually explain these concepts rather than just having me read these over and over again?”

Bakugo lifts an eyebrow, “You got some kind of problem with reading?”

She releases the tightening grip she had on her eraser, she knew better than to do that again since it won’t even have the chance to crash land on where she wanted it to, “No! I--god, how do I put this, it's just that,” She gestures towards her textbook, “I’m not getting anything.”

“Why?” He asks as if she just told him that she didn’t know how to count to ten. Ochako decides that she didn’t want to argue anymore, she had already exhausted enough energy from just trying to make herself make sense to Bakugo and resisting the occasional urge to throw an entire desk at him. The last one took every single cell in her body not to do.

“I don't know, okay?” She exhales, “I’ve already tried reading all of this stuff on my own, I wouldn’t be here if I could understand it just from that.” She attempts to give him the most earnest look her face can muster, “So can you please just try and help me out here?”

Ochako momentarily catches a flicker of surprise in Bakugo’s eyes, maybe she looked a bit too earnest, just before his face twists into another scowl as he turns away to direct his attention to the wall. Bakugo’s eyes seemed to dart everywhere except her direction, but after a few moments of contemplation, he throws his arms up in frustration, “Fuck, fine!”

She expected him to pull out his own textbook from his bag, but nothing could have prepared Ochako for Bakugo making his way towards the other side of the room until he was right in front of her. He grips the corner of her desk with one hand and flips her text book to face him with the other. Red eyes peek at her from behind the blonde strands of hair that fell on top of them as he offers her his free hand.

Wait, is he asking me to hold his hand?

“Your pen, idiot.” He spits.

“Oh! Right, yeah, um here you go.” He was right, she was an idiot. Ochako hands him her pen and the brief contact of their fingers only add to the heat spreading like wildfire from her neck to her cheeks.

He pulls a chair from the table behind him and sits down, “Tell me what you need help with.” he grumbles. Ochako still couldn’t bring herself to string a single sentence due to the sudden change in proximity, not to mention the fact that they were also sharing a table that wasn’t exactly meant to accommodate two people.

She flips to a couple of pages back and points to an especially complicated part of the lesson. Bakugo takes a moment to read the entirety of the text, underlining a few words and phrases here and there as he goes through each page. Ochako didn’t know what to do while he was doing this, she can’t exactly read along with him since she’d be reading upside down. Instead, she quietly watches Bakugo, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, lips occasionally parting as he muttered parts of the paragraphs. She wondered if this was what he always looked like whenever he was studying with his friends or alone in his room back at the dorms.

“You done being a creep?” He suddenly asks, his eyes still fixated on her book.

Her eyes widened as she quickly looked for something else to look at, “Yes--no! I mean, no I wasn’t being a creep.” Her eyes find the ceiling. It amazed her how she could find 30 different ways to embarrass herself in front of a single person within the span of a few minutes.

“Sure.” he mutters flatly, eyes still glued on her textbook.

Bakugo finishes reading and turns the textbook again so she could see the things he had underlined along with the short notes he wrote beside some of the paragraphs. He begins to go over each concept and Ochako had to actively slide her finger along each sentence because of how fast he was going. Despite the ridiculous speed that he was explaining in, she manages to successfully keep up, the difficult terminologies and formulas slowly but surely begin to make sense, each cog in her head finally coming together for her to actually understand the examples shown after each concept.

Bakugo hands her back her pen, “Your turn.”

Ochako doesn’t miss the feeling of their fingers touching again when she takes it. This happens a few more times as she answers a set of questions in an exercise, both of them taking turns writing down solutions to each one. After the fifth time, yes she counted, she asks, “Did you bring your own pen?”

Bakugo’s eyes settle on hers once more, a familiar scowl painting his face, “You got a problem with me using this one?” He retorts. She debates on whether it was a good idea telling him that his fingers were distracting her, phrasing, Ochako, but she ultimately decides against it for obvious reasons.

“Nevermind.”

One problem in particular had her stumped for a couple of minutes and it takes all the little Ochako’s in her head to figure out how to approach it. She had been scribbling down the beginning of a solution when she feels a pair of eyes linger on her for a suspicious amount of time. It’s only when Bakugo’s staring hits the 2 minute mark that she says, “You done being a creep?” She grins, not taking her eyes off the page.

“Tch, you wish.” She didn’t have to be looking at him to know that he rolled his eyes at the remark.

An alarm goes off from Ochako’s phone, signaling the end of their session. She had miraculously gotten half of the questions right this time which was a huge improvement considering that she couldn’t even get one right before. She was about to thank Bakugo when he suddenly sprang up from his seat, hastily grabbing his bag from the other side of the classroom. He glances her way one last time before wordlessly exiting the room, leaving Ochako alone with her own thoughts that seemed to only revolve around the warm feeling of Bakugo’s fingers on hers.

[biillyhargroves]

Anon of the tbi prompt (and Hopper "Adopt Billy prompt). I would love more. Feel free to combine the two as well, or keep them separate.

i know where you’ve been (connected to you got me)(fic requests open)

Billy is on the floor. 

Max sees it happen- sees his father raise his fists and seem to grow three feet taller in the process, sees Billy shudder as he fights to stand his ground, sees him tremble and collapse like a tree in a storm. Neil looms over him, covers his shivering shadow until Max can’t see him anymore. He delivers one harsh kick to Billy’s side and Billy groans. Max can see him curled up in a ball as his father stalks away. 

She shrinks back into her room, shutting the door and praying that her step-father doesn’t notice her. She wishes to invisible, and only lets out her breath when her wish seems to be granted. She hears Neil’s footsteps stomp down the hall. She hears the front door open and shut. She hears a car engine, and then she hears a soft whimper break the following silence.

Her mother is out- she had lunch planned with her girlfriends, and though she’d asked Max if she’d like to go, Max knew she couldn’t leave Billy. He has only been home from the hospital for a week and has been hit more times than Max can count on her hands. 

It always starts small, like when Billy slept too late on first morning home or when he turns out lights when he comes in rooms because their harsh glare hurts his eyes. It starts small and then grows, like a snowball rolled down hill. It builds and builds and then it crashes with screaming and flying fists. She thought- or maybe she just hoped -that Neil would be kinder as his son heals, but it seems that Billy’s injuries- weaknesses in Neil’s eyes -only anger him more. The migraines are nuisances. When Billy throws up, Neil berates him like a child. He withholds medicine because he thinks that Billy should handle pain “like a man”, whatever that means. (He even keeps Billy’s antibiotics from him, which Max has seen her mother slip to him when Neil isn’t looking. The Mayfields take over his care, guided by the doctor’s instructions hidden in Susan’s purse). 

But now, Susan is not home, and Neil has stormed off, and Billy is on the floor. 

Max sneaks out of her room, rip-toeing until she is certain they are alone. She listens for the rolling tires of her step-father’s old Ford, but they don’t come, and in their absence she hurries the rest of the way to Billy’s room. 

“Billy?” she says, but he doesn’t answer her. His head is turned down and his hair hides his face. His arms are wrapped protectively around his middle and sweat soaks through his shirt. On closer inspection, Max sees the fabric over his chest darkening in shades of red. “Billy?! Hey. Hey, come on. Billy, talk to me.”

She touches his shoulder, timidly at first, and then she grabs it and shakes him as gently as she can. She thinks she hears him say a four letter word, but isn’t quite sure. 

“Billy?” she says again. “Where does it hurt?” 

When he still doesn't answer, Max pulls herself to her feet. She runs back to her room and grabs the walkie talkie that she never lets stray too fair. She pulls up the antenna and presses down the button and says, “Does anyone copy? This is Max, does anyone copy? I...I need help. Just...code red, okay? Code red. I need help.” 

She moves through she house with the walkie in one hand. She goes into the bathroom and pulls the first aid kit from underneath the sink. She repeats, “Code red. Come on. Does anybody copy? Answer me. This is Max. I have a code red.” over and over again as she fills a bowl with water and squeezes hand soap into it. “This is Max,” she says once more. “Someone please copy.” 

She hears a noise from Billy’s room- something like a cough, or a hiccup, and she she pokes her head into the hall she can see Billy shaking in a way that she can only describe as violent. She abandons her supplies and hurries to him, leaving the radio on the lip of the sink. 

“Billy?” she says. He is trying to push himself onto hands and knees, and when Max thinks he is going to be sick she makes a move for the waste bin by his bed, but Billy grabs her wrist. “What?” she asks. “What is it?” 

He doesn’t say anything, but he uses his hold on her to start to pull himself up. 

“Woah, what the shit? Billy, stop. Stay down.” Even as she speaks, she knows the point is moot. He won’t listen, and her only choice is to help him to his feet and to let him lean on her as they make their way slowly into the bathroom. He collapses beside the toilet the moment they get there, and Max barely gets the lid open in time for him to start heaving. With no other way to help him, Max kneels beside him, rubbing circles into his back the way her mother did for when she had the stomach flu last spring. “Okay,” she says. “It’s okay.” 

In the flurry of motion, she hardly noticed the crackle of static from the walkie on the sink.

“Max, this is Dustin. I’m with Steve. We copy. We’re on our way.”

She doesn’t think that Billy hears this, and this is a small relief in itself. Billy is still Billy. He is still proud. He still doesn’t want to be helped, or to have all of his dorky little sister’s dorky little friends gawk at him in his misery. She keeps her attention on him so that he won’t know. When she rises, it is to fill a Dixie cup with water. She hands it to him and he swishes it around in his mouth and spits. He reaches to flush the toilet, but his hand shakes, and Max guides it back down as she hits the lever for him. 

Max lets silence linger between them for a few steady beats before she dives into the questions the doctors told the family to ask. “Do you know your name?” 

Billy doesn’t answer. He stays there with one arm hugging the bowl, breathing heavily. When he lets Max guide him away and leans his back against the bathtub, his eyes look glossy and red. Max feels her heart in her throat and she does her best to swallow it back down. The stain on his shirt is growing- a deep crimson blotch coming from wounds still held together by surgical thread. 

“Let me look,” Max says, pointing to his chest. Billy looks down and frowns at the stain. She waits for him to take off his shirt, and when he doesn't, Max reaches for the hem. Billy swats her away. “Stop it,” Max says. “I need to look.”

She doesn’t hear the knock at the front door, or the subsequent squeak of the hinges at is eased open. She only turns around when she hears a clamor of footsteps coming down the hall, stiffening and rising, moving herself protectively in front of Billy and only relaxing when she sees Eleven in the doorway. 

Mike is in tow, and behind him comes Will and Lucas and, finally, Dustin and Steve. 

“We heard you,” El says. 

“What’s going on?” asks Lucas. Max looks down at her feet, and then she moves aside so that they can all see Billy. He is looking at them, but doesn’t seem to fully see them. 

“His...his dad,” Max says. “I don’t know what happened, but...his dad really pounded on him and now he won’t say anything. I...I don’t know what to do. I think he made it worse.”

The great it is the brain injury that no one has formally told Billy he has. Max thinks he knows- thinks he’s pieced it together from all the conversations about him that happen right in front him, his name batted about as if he is not right there. 

“Okay,” Steve says, pushing ahead of the kids and stepping into the room. Billy curls away from his shadow, seems like he’s trying to escape. Steve looks to Max, who gives a slight nod, and then he kneels down in front of Billy. “Hey,” he says, getting Billy’s eyes to zero in on him. “It’s okay, alright? We’re here to help. No one is going to hurt you.” 

Billy looks from Steve to the rest of the party, then back to Steve again. Max comes to his other side, once again motioning toward the hem of his shirt.

“Billy,” she says. “You’re hurt. We just want to see how bad.”

“No one’s here to hurt you,” Steve repeats. He turns to the boys, who are crammed in the doorway. “Hey, don’t crowd him. Make yourselves useful.”

They jolt into motion. Lucas grabs the first aid kid, and Will takes the bowl of water that Max had left half-filled in the bowl of the sink. Dustin and Mike hurry to Billy’s room in search of a fresh shirt. Max tells El where to find her mother’s purse, the one with the doctor’s orders and the prescription pain medication that Neil won’t let Billy have. She fetches them as Max and Steve get Billy to take off his shirt and carefully remove the blood-soaked gauze wrapped tight around his chest. 

“He didn’t rip any stitches,” Steve says. “At least, I don’t think.”

“He’s lucky,” Max says. “That shithead got him good.” Then, she focuses her attention back on Billy. “I’m going to clean it, okay? I know words aren’t your strong suit right now-” at this, Billy grunts, but he proves Max’s point by saying nothing, “-but just let me know if I’m hurting you.” 

Billy lets them clean him up, hissing only once when the rubbing alcohol first touches his skin. He lets them put new gauze on the wound. He hesitates when El offers him pills, but dry-swallows them before Max can finish filling a cup with water. His eyes squint against the light, and when he starts to try to escape it, Max asks Will to shut off the lights. He starts in the bathroom, then moves down the hall and all the way into Billy’s room. Steve hauls Billy to his feet and helps him down the hall and back into bed. 

“Be careful,” Max says, following a step behind them. “His head hurts.”

“I think his everything hurts,” Lucas says, referencing the blossoming bruises they all saw on Billy’s bare stomach. Max glares at him, and he holds up his hands. “I meant that for real. I feel bad for the guy.” 

“He doesn’t need you to feel bad for him,” Max snaps. “He just needs help.” 

“That’s what we came for,” Dustin assures here.

“Yeah,” Mike agrees.

“We’re here to help,” Will says. 

“I think,” El says, and everyone turns to face her, “I can help him rest. He...he needs to.”

“Okay,” Max says. “Have at it.” 

Steve deposits Billy on his bed, and El hovers behind him, Max just a few feet behind her and the rest of the party gathered in the doorway. As Billy tries to get himself comfortable, El approaches him. She points to his head.

“Can I?” she asks, and Billy’s brows furrow. He doesn’t seem to understand, but he doesn’t shy away when El takes a seat on the edge of his head. “I...I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

She reaches for him, and Billy winces slightly as her fingertips graze his temple. The others watch as El closes her eyes and Billy does, too. They watch as he lowers his head against the pillow and his eyes flutter shut. El lingers a few moments longer before she lets go of him, and when she turns back to the group Max asks, “What did you do?”

“I...showed him happy memories,” El explains. “So that he can dream about them.” 

Max thanks her with a hug that lasts longer than usual, and then she offers the group some food for their trouble. They pour bags of chips into plastic bowls in the kitchen and park themselves on the couch, all of them resigned to taking watch for as long as it took, to keep their friends safe. 

[livin-in-mementos]

After Some Time (...and a break or two)

Ugh... okay, its here. The big one. Let me preface this by saying I wont be doing a count by count story of what happened, it’s too many hour and headaches that I don’t need to be fair. But I said I’d get to it... and boy howdy has it been swirling in my head since.

The Slazo Situation Revisited

 So small backstory for those who haven’t boarded this crazy train of bullshit and migraines, this story is about a fairly large commentary youtuber by the name of Slazo (Or Micheal) who was caught in a controversy when his ‘Ex-Girlfriend’ exposed him in a Twitlonger for being a manipulative, sexual harasser. DM’s and screenshots of chat logs were shown and it made Slazo look pretty scummy. A few days later Slazo releases his defence video outlining the parts that were true and a lot of points that were fabricated to make him look evil in the eyes of the internet, with added proof and conveniently missing parts of his exes proof that would have exonerated him on the spot in the eyes of the internet courtroom. For opinions sake, yes I do think Slazo is innocent of the more damning accusations that were put against him, no I do not think he was 100% innocent. Of what he was guilty of? maybe being a pretty shitty boyfriend.... though at the age of 15-16... its slap on the back of the head material... not cancellation worthy.

Slazo was pretty much cleared of it all and everybody went on with their day... heck it shouldn’t even be called the Slazo situation, because while his name was brought up a lot, he wasn’t really all that key to what happened next... 

Commentary youtubers from all corners of the internet had an opinion on what Slazo had done and how guilty he was (again, I will not be doing a play by play of every accusation) which boiled down to two camps

1. “Slazo is guilty and here is why... Oh and have a bunch of off-cuff situations I witnessed where Slazo was really creepy that I only just now remember and want to bring up.”

2. “Lotta commentary youtubers being liars, snakes or hypocrites up in here.”

Which in turn brought two youtubers under the microscope themselves, ImAlexx and Hyojin.

Alex first as it’s easier and is the least weird of the two. Alex jumped on the Slazo hate bandwagon pretty quickly and started accusing Slazo of a bunch of things that couldn’t easily be proven, while also completely backing up the story that Chey (the ex) has given in her Twitlonger, despite the fact it had been blown open with so many holes that not even a brain dead goldfish could find logic in it. Alex would later admit he had a part in writing the Twitlonger, as did many other prominent commentary youtubers and friends,outing the Twitlonger as more of a team effort rather than just Chey writing it herself.

After this Alex was accused of a bunch of stuff himself including being a social climber to get more popular since he was a pretty good friend to Slazo before all of this happened, as well as a snake since he supported Chey and the Twitlonger until it was criticised as untrue.... and Alex said the same to cover for himself.

To this day there hasn’t been a clear end point to this, Alex has tried to brush away from it all and has taken the bumps of being called controversial, hoping for it to all die down eventually. (While writing this Alex appeared on the Happy Hour Podcast to give a rundown of the situation to the hosts who admitted they knew nothing of the situation. What’s worse Alex seems to have glazed over many of his own wrongdoings that only escalated the drama further.) Opinion? To be honest, I don’t know... Alex obviously tried to ride the controversy to boost himself, that much is sure, yet when it came back to bite him he tried to hide and wait for it to blow over. It’s sad, It IS snakeworthy and since a proper apology hasn’t been issued... it’s not a good look for him at all.

Hyojin to me was the worst of the two to me. While she didn’t say as much publicly, it was was was happening behind the scenes that just frustrated me.

(Be aware, if you like Hyojin and think she can do no wrong, DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT. A lot of hot-takes will be thrown out there and a lot of criticism will be put out there too. I WILL be talking about the aftermath at length which is where the support poured in for Hyojin. I will being ripping that apart just as much, if not more for the bullshit that it was.)

Hyojin sucks, and I mean she really sucks. A lot of what was thrown out about Slazo in the Twitlonger allegedly was orchestrated and was the idea of Hyojin herself, taking what Chey was saying and embellishing it with the rest of their friend group. It’s alleged however and won’t be part of the criticism thrown at her.

While the incident was being investigated, Hyojin was too, including her colourful hot takes on Slazo and how creepy he was. Hyojin would never publicly call out Slazo since at the time, anybody who did was getting rinsed by the internet very quickly. So instead she hid on her discord and talked in DM’s about destroying Slazo’s career so he would never recover and deleting messages that challenged how Chey publicly omitted any evidence that made Slazo look like less of a monster. Shady.

During the internet investigations, it was discovered that Hyojin had an old art Twitter where her fictional character was drawn fucking her friends in several positions. The problem was, several of these friends were underage and despite her defence that none of these friends minded.... it was still there for public viewing as was still wrong. One instance even had another youtuber by the name of Kavos in one of these pictures even though he was never asked, nor gave his permission. The irony of all this being that much of what Hyojin criticised Slazo for, she was guilty of herself. Creepy.

Here’s where it gets controversial... probably more for me. Dog dropping rumours aside. (trust me, it was stupid)

Hyojin was getting major flak for everything that was found out about her and it seemed to get too much for her, which is understandable. Her response to all of this was a tweet telling everyone she was going to kill herself. The public response actually became something that confused me, because in the blink of an eye everyone retracted their criticisms and gave out well wishes instead. To make the trend even more sympathetic the youtubers involved in writing the Twitlonger started urging people to give her space and lay off on the nasty comments.

I for one, did not care. Heartless of me? Maybe. But it was all backed up by reasoning. Here was a girl ready to throw the life of a person under the bus for being a slightly shitty boyfriend and lying to make it sound worse. Helping to write up a statement that grossly exaggerated things to such a degree that Slazo was the most hated person on the internet and was blasted by everyone left, right and centre. After he proved to everyone he wasn’t like that, the attention turned on Chey and the friends that helped her and when their dirty laundry was put out there and they were being criticised.... now it was unacceptable? Now it was too much?

YOU TRIED TO OUT A GUY FOR BEING A SEX PEST! Shit that will follow him for life. But people calling out racist remarks you made? the underage porn you had drawn? The toxic behaviour you exhibited to anyone who questioned you?

....yeah that was too much and the line had to be drawn right?

But hey, it’s okay, you can just back to twitter the second the drama blows over and everything is all good now right?

Now this is where I direct it to the people who think that Hyojin is infallible, that she can do no wrong. She messed up bad, real bad. If anything she’s the true villain behind all of this and it’s shocking the lengths people were going to just to defend her. If every racist, abuser or sex pest threatened their life to be let off, this world would be screwed, but the second a darling Tumblr artist with links to popular youtubers does it, it’s a crime to list the irony that she attempted to cancel a guy with far worse repercussions that would lead to life long damage.

The worst part of all of this was that an apology would have cleared all of this. They knew they were wrong but an apology was impossible for them, so instead it’s made bigger, uglier and dirty laundry is shown. If anything, I’m happy it got to where it did since it showed the ugly side of Hyojin for everyone to see. So my opinion of Hyojin?

Fuck Hyojin.

[shesawriter39049]

“Often” Taehyung college AU (M)

The scenario is pretty cut and dry..Tae is your stereotypical attractive wealthy college frat boy....use to getting whatever and whoever he wants.. But this time around the person he wants is pretty much the female version of himself..whether she wants to admit it or not..and she’s Bi..so she’s also stepping in his territory..... Now will just have to see which one of them is willing to bow down first.... This is NOT a enemies to lovers AU, it’s not a secret they are both sexually attracted..  It dosen’t take long for her to warm up to him...she just knows she dosen’t “Need him” ..so it’s just a game of who can make who get on there knees first.  ***Hoseok is in the sneak peek...that’s why he’s tagged..all the boys will be in the full thing***

A ROUGH sneak peek/INTRO.. A smutty one shot that actually kinda has a storyline/plot..there are mentions of smut/teasing in the SP

Fuck boy/frat boy Tae in full affect...but the OC is kinda a beast too...

Not promising when this will be up..but I got inspired today to start it.

-Song referenced is “Often” by The Weeknd...

You guys can thank one of my lovely anon’s for giving me the idea of pairing cocky FB college Tae with an equally cocky Bisexual OC 

“I’d literally rather get my clit pierced than go to that” Nonchalantly bringing your focus back to your food, dipping your pretzels in a gloub of beer cheese while you watched both of your friends faces contort in pure  torture. “Ugh,yeah I don't even have a pussy nevertheless  a clit and even I felt that...Jesus..girl” Hoseok snorted out a light chuckle as he continued mixing the new drink order that just came in “Oh my god Y/n really!? It swear it won't be that bad..you can’t be the only person not at this frat party after the homecomming game...Pleaseee..” there she goes whining..again..letting her fingers trickle up your shoulder...while a dramatic sigh left your lips as you slouched in your seat. “Okay, you are aware that only works for me when were actually having sex right? You whining in other circumstances just gives me a migraine..” Purposely ignoring her question, making a pout appear on her lips instantly..which you also ignored. Picking another pretzel off your plate, to feed to Hoseok who was currently staring at your plate like a starving puppy. Placing the pretzel in front of his lips, letting him quickly inhale a bite before one of his managers noticed.  Not even appearing to chew before swallowing it whole “I still can't understand how the two of you can hook up,and still stay friends…” Shaking his head..with a slight smirk before placing the 3 salted margaritas on the tray for the server to pick up. “Because neither of us actually wants a girlfriend right now..and in my instance I actually don't want anything to do with the male species at all ..ESPECIALLY..the ones that crawl out of that Alpha Kappa - Gucci belt- fuckboy house…”  A loud squeal left Mia’s throat at the sound of that, throwing her head back as she applauded your statement, tears starting to run down her cheeks. A snort left Hoseok’s lips..clearly a little offended, which you currently gave zero fucks about but hey, if he wanted to have his moment...you'd let him.  ”Ugh, excuse you but I live in that Alpha Kappa- Gucci belt-fuckboy house and you like me sooooo..clearly where all not that bad!”

Mia nodded a little too quickly..happy Hoseok was trying to push you in her direction “Okay first off, I barely like you…” Pausing to lock your eyes with his..the slight smirk on your face let him know you weren't serious. Even though you’d never give him credit..he was honestly  a decent guy. A look of amusement danced along his lips as he let you continue “Second..none of the other kappa fuckboys are like you..I’ll be swatting motherfuckers away the minute I walk through the door. Which sounds fucking exhausting...Yeah, no thanks!” Tossing your hair behind your shoulder, as you took a sip of your cocktail not even remotely phased by how cocky that may have came off. You transferred schools during  summer courses..and you weren't subtle by any means...damn near every boy on campus as tried to get in your pants and you've turned them all down. The girls on the other hand..you had a little fun with..everyones fav femm dom, don’t get me wrong you were still very selective. Your outlook on women just wasn't as savage as it was with the male species, to be real you were kinda a hypocrite though, the queen of fuck and leave..of “Oh yeah I’ll call you…” then blocking their number. Let’s just say your ex was the definition of the type of guy you absolutely should NOT I repeat NOT get involved with...But Jackson was smooth... The star quarterback that broke your heart and now you think all men..especially pretty frat boys are all just a waste of seamen.  Not that, that’s necessarily fair to lump them all in the same category . But to be frank, the ones that have approached you, minus Hoseok haven’t showed you much to prove they were any different than the picture you painted in your mind soo..meh. “Well I feel like I can speak on behalf of the female population and say...the frat BOYS wouldn't be the only ones you'd have to swat away..” Letting her fingers dance along the necklace that set on your chest..tracing over the rose gold font that spelled out your name. “ But I also heard..you’ve caught a certain someone's attention..isn't that right Hobi?” Smirking over at Hoseok ..as she’s now found her place on your lap..as the two of you sat in front of the bar. The smile on Hosoeks face already had you annoyed reclining in your chair, as you brought your fingers to massage your temples “What part of..I don’t give a fuck about fucking some frat boy..in a Gucci belt, that doesn't even know foreplay is a thing..fucks like a jackrabbit..uses porn for all of there references-” Cut off by the cackle that left Hoseok and Mias lips with transferred quickly to you..as you tried to get your point across in between laughing “And...and most importantly they wouldn't even last..a minute they’d slide it..it’s game over…so what about that sounds fun for me?”

“Damn, I don’t think I've never met a girl that talks as much shit as I do...Oh and by the way it seems like the issues is you've just been fucking boys. The fact that there in a frat doesn't seem to be the problem,” Turning your head slightly , face reflecting you were more than annoyed that some random has invited himself to your conversation, yet the frustration on your face didn't phase him one bit”  “Now weather YOU can actually back up all the shit your talking, the way I can...that’s currently up for debate..” The deep rumble that erupted from his chest was..unexpected to say the least. The husky tone didn't fit his face at all but the base in his voice..yeah that was doing something for you . He was, fuck...fine, fine as hell that’s literally the only way to describe him and to make it even worse..he knew it, you could tell he did. Tall ,broad..nice build..he was clearly a bottle blonde..but it suited him. Not even minding his dark roots because they complimented his strong brows. Chiseled jawline..hair messily parted down the middle..leather jacket..skinny jeans..black timbs...warm complexion.  You watched him casually pick a fry off your plate, grabbing his hand immediately turning it to face your lips.. Sinfully biting it out of his hand before swatting it away. Earning a smile that almost reflected he was I don’t know..impressed? Tapping Mia’s thigh indicating for her to get off your lap and sit back in her set to your left. “Oh look, my point exactly..it’s one of your Alpha Kappa- Gucci-fuck boys, I'm sorry is this the part were your expecting me to get all worked up..and tell you how good of a lay and I am..and then you and me end up going to the bathroom to fuck so I can “Prove my point?” Brow quirked in his direction,the amount of sass dripping from your lips was uncanny to say the least.

A smirk moved up his faced as he braced his weight on the bartop, Cocking his head to the slide slightly, letting his tongue tease at the corner of his mouth.. ”Nah this is the part where, I walk away, we both sit here and act like we aren't turned on by the arrogance we clearly both get off on. We continue to play this cat and mouse game until the frat party next week...and then maybe, maybe then I’ll let you try and prove your point” The devious looks on his face only got darker as he watched the frustration dance along yours.  He got you good...poking at your Ego in the sense of him doubting your skill but if you played into it...then you'd be the girl you just talked shit about. Taking a second to get your thoughts together you'd be damned if he won this “Ya know, your talking a lot of shit for someone who literally just followed me on all my socials this morning, oh and don't think I didn't notice you creepin.I did see the picture you “liked” from last summer before to quickly unliked it..” Resting your chin against your  hand as your elbow braced your weight on  the bar, batting your full set of lashes in his direction “ So it seems like you’ll be the one sliding in my DM’s begging me to prove my point...I mean not that I can blame you..I have mastered the art of a good thirst trap” Shooting him a quick wink, before  easing out of your chair , swaying off to the bathroom.

If you guys are interested let….let me knowwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Love you as always,

Rocki

[anthemsreturn-writes]

HTS One-Shot: It Means Everything

Summary: Actions speak louder than words, and fighting reveals the true intentions behind them. 

That fucking hurt. 

She turned her head briefly to the side and spat out a fat glob of blood, crimson on glistening snow before she turned back and locked eyes with the much taller, currently threatening man who’d just decked her, albeit, not out of the blue and certainly not undeserved. 

Canine leaned back, weight on her right foot and combat booted toes shifting inward, left elbow bending in and arm moving higher to block her jaw as her right fist curled tightly at her side, threatening an underhand punch; she was making her intentions clear. Her center of balance lowered and steel-toed boots crunched the snow she trod upon, the grinding noise heard cristal clear as dawn sluggishly turned into daybreak overhead. It was too fucking early for a spat, especially when Zombie shouldn’t even be offended. But apparently, he was offended enough to slug her. And she was only slightly proud; the bastard’s so slow to anger, so slow to fight, but this of all things could’ve been handled with words. Usually, she’s the one to make things physical. 

She’d just made a careless comment, or rather, she didn’t give a fuck about how her words would be received. They were walking down the street of one of the shoddier neighborhoods in the area, and Canine admired how much of an improvement the scenery was to the usual, with the minimal littering of trash and some non-spray-painted signs here or there. And she didn’t have to focus on scanning the ground for gum; it’s rare she gets the opportunity to steal a good pair of shoes and she’d hate to have her current ones ruined. 

That just so happened to remind her of a… call it what you will: a grudge, a disagreement, a trivial matter blown out of proportion to its necessary weight. But hell if it didn’t still piss her off. Though, she probably shouldn’t have brought it up. Not that she’s gonna apologize. 

Zombie’d reached out before she could move away, yanking on her wrist and sending her careening to the side and backward. Just as she’d caught her footing his fist slammed into her, centered in her right cheek. Stunned for a solid moment, she didn’t react other than manipulating the effect of the pain out of her mind, an unconscious habit. Then she’d huffed, pissed beyond belief, and, mouth still gaping, turned shocked and accusatory, although not yet enraged, eyes up to Zombie’s face. To his credit, he didn’t shrink away and didn’t look apologetic in the slightest. Sticking to it, hah?  

His eyes were dark, swirling with rage but tamed with control, deep blue pools that would drown anyone weaker. Still, she felt smothered under the weight of his stare, the determined set of his jaw and the purpose behind his stance. After appraising him, she raised her left eyebrow, bemusedly. 

A large welt was forming across her cheekbones; her eyes seemed to gain life as if it wasn’t there before, not so much bright as glinted steel, hardening even as her downturned lips quirked upwards slowly, spreading out the muscles in her face almost unnaturally as if it was the closest to a smile she could manage and the only emotion her face could display while keeping the truth under concealment. 

“So… I take it that upset you?” Quiet menace laced her voice, a dangerous intonation making itself clear despite the composure of her face. She braced herself for a fight, collected in her stance if not in her frame of mind. 

But then Zombie let his arms drop. Confused, she merely narrowed her eyes in challenge. Then, 

“You still think you could beat me to death without powers? Without some way to level the ground?” 

Before she could reply, he continued on, making her grit her bared teeth. 

“You always want to be so strong, always the one in charge, always in control, and you’ll never give it a rest for one fucking minute!” His voice roared at the end, abandoning its eternal, lasting reserve in the span of a single heartbeat. 

Tilting her head slightly and eyes narrowing, her jet black hair swung in its high ponytail and bangs gently fluttered from the wind as her expression dropped to a deadpan. “Why don’t you just give ‘protecting me’ a rest for a change? Still don’t think I can handle myself in a fight? Yet you won’t give me a chance to prove it to you; I wonder why…” At the last phrase, her voice honeyed patronizingly. Zombie grit his teeth. 

“Fine.” 

Her eyebrow once again raised, though this time disbelievingly and harried. “Really. ‘Fine,’ what then? Go on, I’ll bite.” She spat the last word threateningly. 

He was unphased. “I’ll tell you what, ‘cause you’re really pissing me the hell off.” His voice was sharp on the word “pissing,” the “p” puffing out his lips and forming the word into more of a hiss. “Give me a migraine, a purposeful one, but just enough I can’t manipulate you into a hallucination. Then, I’ll hold the rest of my abilities back, and you with yours. I’ll make sure to stop before you croak.” 

She just smirked. “We’ll see.” 

With that, Zombie’s face crumpled in intense pain. It had to be, or else he could use his powers. And it was mainly the honor system that she didn’t continue using her own, to stop or incur either one of them pain. But if there’s one thing she hates more than anything else, it’s a broken promise. With that in mind, she set out to beat his ass instead. 

Left hook. Dodge. Twist. Kick. Swerve. Fuck, that hurt. Duck. Shove. Kick. Knees are fair game. Stab with the knuckles. Her side; damnit that hurt! He might’ve ruptured her fucking spleen. Dodge. Kick. Right hook. She quickly gained the upper hand. Would be easier if… well, she didn’t exactly want to shin him there when she so obviously could right now-- moment passed. She spared him, but he would’ve dodged in time anyway. Right hook. Left. Right. Roundhouse. He’s on the ground. Stomp on his stomach; he dodged in time and she clipped his side. She’d planned that and he knew, but was acting on self-preservation instincts. She then rounded and kicked him, hard, in about the same spot he’d slammed into her side so hard she nearly fractured her wrist on the wall. She didn’t even register the full extent of the pain ‘till then. Acting on impulse, acting fast. She’d acted fast enough. He groaned in pain, curling in on himself pathetically. The fight wasn’t pathetic. Her wrist was most definitely fractured. He’d bruised her side almost as bad as she bruised his. Her jaw still ached from earlier. She’d forgotten about his brass knuckles, too. She’d bit the inside of her cheek in the fight; it was even more swollen and her mouth was filled with blood, the iron taste disgusting her as much as it made her feel alive. 

She turned her head and spit crudely onto the ground before coming down from the adrenaline of the fight and stepped back. The alley framed him nicely, the boarded-up windows and the light barely filtering in making for a nice touch, accenting the black and blue hue to his alabaster skin. His blue-black hair was matted with blood; she must’ve cut his forehead with her nails, thin trails of red drying on his scalp. Black eye, matching her own that she must’ve acquired at some point in the fight. She remembered every detail of it, but only in terms of her own movements, matching and sparing with his in a dance one of them would regret attending. Seems he has two left feet. 

She’d smiled, looking down on him maniacally, her shit-eating grin only widening as she graciously took away his headache. “Looks like I can fend for myself after all. And don’t pull any, “I was holding back,” bullshit, ‘cause I know when you’re lying, remember?” 

He just groaned in pain. She frowned. He didn’t hear most of what she’d said through the blood pounding in his ears. Upon realizing that, she brought down his pain levels enough for him to focus. “I won. Now back off.” Her voice was harsher than the granite cushioning Zombie’s bruised, in some places broken form. But she didn’t hurt him enough to cause serious injury; she wouldn’t want that. She just… she wouldn’t, is all. Not feeling like it in particular; good for him in this case. 

Zombie’s eyes rolled up along with his head until he was staring into the first rays of dawn. With a pained groan that turned into a chuckle before dissolving into coughing so hard his bruised ribs threatened to snap, he turned to meet her eyes. 

"Strong kick. I like people that can fend for themselves.” With that, his head thudded back and he did his best to restrain another groan. 

And Canine smiled. The manic look in her eyes dimmed until a relaxed, proud smile shone through, and with that, she manipulated away both of their pains and helped ease him slowly to his feet; they were still injured, despite not feeling the pain. Both were worse for wear, and more so than usual, as would be expected between a more formal brawl between their kind. Usually, their fights stay verbal, and sparring matches are a different matter altogether. 

Suddenly overcome with guilt, the emotion she hates experiencing more than any other, her breath caught in her throat and she hid her face with a growl, eyes trained on the ground beneath her feet. She felt more than anything else when he lifted his hand and brushed her sweat-and-blood dampened bangs away from her face before dropping it limply, the both of them clutching their sides, nearly doubled over. 

“Hey.” His voice was clear cut and only sharpened further. “… I’ve never doubted your strength, never doubted that you can hold your own.” 

She snarled at the blatant assertion. “Don’t you fucking lie to me--” 

“I don’t want to lose you. I know how close you always are to losing yourself, so… I wanted you to depend on me instead of yourself, all this time. Is that really too selfish?” 

He attempted to be mocking in the last phrase, but thankfully it came out more honest than he’d intended and the statement’s neediness shone through, reflected in the heat rising to his cheeks as his left hand once again lifted but this time to scratch his jaw idly, right arm wrapped around his body while her left pressed directly against her own. 

Canine glanced down at the ground, gaze sticking on a bloodied pebble. “... Yeah, I do depend on you, don’t I?” Her words were hushed but open, sounding from deep in the back of her throat as it clogged with rising revelations. 

Zombie looked deeply, seriously, into her eyes, evaluating her openly and hoping she wouldn’t slip into herself again. “... It doesn’t have to mean anything.” He hedged, despite his thick, reserved tone begging it to mean everything. 

Canine’s head quickly jerked up, locking eyes with him. “I think it does.” They didn’t have to speak the words to know they’d already been said. 

Zombie limped forward, gently easing her into the warm circle of his arms, her small frame pressed up against his, head resting square in his firm, lean chest. Her nose fell about a foot below his shoulders and she burrowed into him, not knowing how to express her current cocktail of emotions. He just leaned down slightly, encasing her with his body, hands running idly up and down the length of her back and being careful to avoid any tender areas from their brawl. Feeling overcome with emotion, they merely held onto each other and focused on breathing and allowing themselves to just feel, to just be, if only for a short while. 

Upon breathing in deeply, Canine held onto Zombie’s scent as long as she could before breathing it out, deeply enjoying the hug, both their guards down for once and at the same time at that, just existing in the quiet moment that proceeded. She buried her nose into his chest, a slight sheen of sweat making his shirt stick against his skin, and found she very much liked the current turn of events. 

Zombie, for his part, was enjoying the feel of her smooth skin and sinewy muscles, stroking along her spine and humming appreciatively when she arched into him with a pleased sigh. His head bowed and he hunched until his lips were brushing the top of her head, and he smiled softly. He’d do this right. This relationship, whatever exactly it was or entailed, he’d make her happy in the course of it. She deserves to feel loved, to feel wanted, to be happy, and he’s overjoyed he now has new ways to express just how much he loves her and how hard he’ll continue to fight to make sure she does. 

A quiet murmur, not obtrusive enough to break the moment of the reverie. “Want to head back to our room?” 

She smiled. While they’d often room together, it was never “our room,” only “the room.”  Nuzzling into his chest with a soft sigh, her shoulders dropped and she only then realized they didn’t have to be raised at all. 

Softly, not disturbing the moment or disrupting the flow, their blood no longer struggling through capillaries constricted with regret and hearts finally pumping in sync, she replied, “Yeah, let’s go.”